


Adventures in Vamp-Sitting

by sandy_s



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Baby, Bars and Pubs, Demons, F/M, In Vitro Fertilization, Karaoke, Kittens, New Orleans, Poker, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-07-27 05:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16212278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandy_s/pseuds/sandy_s
Summary: Buffy and Spike were settled into their life together and had their routine down with their seven-month-old son. He was sleeping through the night, and Buffy and Spike had a good balance of working, spending time as a family, and assisting the Louisiana Slayer team at the slippery New Orleans hellmouth. Then, Buffy gets tapped to help investigate a bunch of dead bodies with neck wounds in the Quarter, and Spike is left to watch their son on his own. He’s done it plenty of times before. What could possibly go wrong this time? **The wonderful banner is by OffYourBird!**Dedication: This story is written especially for yellowb!Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss owns all.





	1. Buffy's Night Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yellowb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowb/gifts).



> This is a different sort of story from A Small Boat on the Ocean. You don't have to read that fic to enjoy this one. It's third person POV. I will do my best to explain any original characters who pop up so you don't have to read the other story. 
> 
> I have a number of chapters planned out so far and have written four of them. Unsure how long it will be but it won't be as long as Small Boat and will probably be about 10 or fewer. 
> 
> Thank you to OffYourBird for the lovely banner! 
> 
> This story is dedicated to the wonderful, kind, and funny yellowb!

_These are the nights_  
_You swear you were born to lose_  
_Like tonight_  
_And you wish your feet were walking_  
_In someone else’s shoes…_  
-Adventures in Babysitting, 1987 

_Chris: What do you want?_  
_John Pruitt: I just want to help you._  
_Daryl: Don’t listen to him; he just wants to scrape our faces off._  
-Adventures in Babysitting, 1987 

 

***

 

“I made a new pitcher of formula but use the bottle that’s in there already. It’s older, and give him his bath. Use the Dove Sensitive Skin baby soap I bought yesterday and not the old bottle. I want us to try that one out because of his eczema. And the dermatologist recommended the Vanicream and not the Aveeno. There’s a clean sleep sack in the dryer because he pooped on the one this morning. Oh, and we’re on green beans this week.” Buffy paused and frowned like she couldn’t remember if there was something else she was supposed to remind Spike about.

 

Starting to feel impatient, Spike bounced seven-month-old Asher on his hip, and the baby cooed. “Love, Ash and I’ve managed many evenings without you. We’ll be fine. And I know what to feed him and how to bathe him. There’s even a list on the fridge in case I completely lose my mind and forget what week we’re on in food intros.”

 

His Slayer was fretting because she was starting to pace, her bouncing ponytail making her seem younger than she was. “But you won’t be able to reach me. It’s a no-cell-phone kind of mission. Well, I’ll have mine, but it’ll be off. George’s orders.” George was Emily’s Watcher, and they’d called in the Baton Rouge and Lafayette Slayers to help as well. “And Wil’s trying that new spell. You know the one?” Like he could forget. He’d been the test dummy for the witch’s latest shenanigans. It was bloody disconcerting that he couldn’t detect his own wife, but he supposed it’d work well for undercover missions. “Dead bodies all over the Quarter this weekend. Neck wounds. We’ll be less detectable.” 

 

Spike was a little disappointed that he wasn’t invited to investigate, but Red’s new spell didn’t seem to work on vampires. He’d already been cooped up during the witching hours all weekend because Buffy had late shifts at CC’s, and he’d had bloody daytime inventory and team building at the bar, which always left him in a foul mood. In one of his wife’s trips back in front of him, he leaned forward and deposited a long kiss on her mouth. “Go. Have fun. Be careful.” 

 

Buffy’s green eyes were glazed with desire when he drew back, and he could smell her arousal – as he’d intended. Only problem was his body was reacting, too – his jeans becoming uncomfortably tight, and he had a baby to feed. She caressed his face, her finger cheekily finding its way to linger on his bottom lip in a way that did not help his predicament – not one bit. Minx. “Wait up,” she commanded. 

 

He bit at her finger, but she dodged away. “Oh, I will,” he said, letting her know that she’d better look out.

 

“Good. I’m taking the Pilot. For group purposes.” She grinned, pecked Asher’s cheek, grabbed her tote full of weapons, and headed into the garage. As the door swung shut, Spike saw her hand clap onto the wood, and her head poked back inside. “I love you both.”

 

Asher shrieked in amusement at seeing his mum again. Spike hugged him. “Love you, too.” He still sometimes couldn’t believe that she was with him and hadn’t gotten bored with the relative quiet of their married life. His unmoving heart ached at the thought of her being gone, but he quickly dismissed it as the garage door opened and closed again as she drove away. 

 

He regarded his tiny son. “Looks like your mum left us with the Civic per usual.” They’d purchased the used grey Honda Pilot after the baby was born. He couldn’t count the number of times the vehicle had been borrowed for use in hauling Slayer supplies or helping with Slayer duties. Once it’d even been finagled as a trap for a couple of slime demons. He’d spent the better part of one of his days off scrubbing out the sticky excretions in between feeding the baby, changing nappies, monitoring tummy time, and getting his son to sleep. 

 

Asher laughed as if he could read Spike’s mind and was amused by the thought of his dad stuck with clean-up duty.

 

Settling the little nipper into the high chair, Spike ignored the straps and slid the plastic tray into place until it clicked. “Livin’ on the edge, eh, Ash? You’re sitting up well now.” Asher had only been holding himself up for about a month, but he was fast becoming an old pro. There’d been no crawling yet, but sitting – even of the wobbly sort – was a big deal. 

 

The baby laughed, his emerald eyes bright. Then, when food didn’t magically appear, he began to cry, his contorted, red face revealing his high level of distress. 

 

Spike hustled then. He knew the drill. Highchair meant food was imminent in Asher’s world, and if it didn’t show up right away, waterworks ensued.

 

“Hold on, Nip.” He threw open the refrigerator door, scanning the contents of the over-stuffed appliance. Where the hell was the spare bottle? Buffy really needed to throw out food items past their expiration. He couldn’t find anything in the bloody box. 

 

Asher wailed louder. 

 

Sod it. He grabbed the pitcher of fresh formula. Letting the door swing closed, he snatched an empty, clean bottle from the drying station, poured out six ounces – give or take, popped a nipple into a cap, slipped the other plastic bit into the long blue piece, and attached all the parts together. Setting the assembled bottle in the microwave, he slammed the door shut and pressed the thirty-second button. 

 

Asher cried harder.

 

“It’s coming. Just. . . twenty-five more seconds.” Longest twenty-five seconds of his unlife.

 

The baby tilted sideways in his anguish, and Spike rushed to right his little body. 

 

An eternity later, the microwave beeped, and Spike retrieved the now warm bottle, swirling the liquid around to ensure it was evenly heated and then deposited the manna in front of his son. “There you go.”

 

Asher immediately quieted and picked up the bottle. As he pushed the nipple into his mouth and began drinking, the quiet beep of Spike’s cell phone filled the sudden virtual silence. His ears took a moment to re-adjust to the quiet, so he could locate the cell; the baby’s cries were harsh on his hearing sometimes, but he didn’t mind – not really. 

 

Spike fished the device out from under a damp kitchen towel and saw a text from someone he hadn’t heard from in a very long time.

 

“Hey, buddy! How are you? How’s Buffy? You’re still with Buffy, right? And oh, it’s Clem here.” 

 

Spike snorted and pulled out the chair next to Asher, who eyed him around the bottle while he continued sucking. 

 

Spike smiled at his son. “Bloke thinks I don’t have him programmed in my phone. Or maybe he thinks I forgot who he is?” 

 

Asher waited with seeming expectation.

 

“Clem’s a fellow that was a good friend of mine in Sunnydale. Where your mum and I met. She knows him, too. It’s been a while though; last I heard from him, he was in L.A.” Spike narrowed his eyes and read his text aloud to the baby as he typed his response, “Clem! Wonderful to hear from you. All’s well. Still with Buffy. Have some other news, too. How are you?” Three dots blinked back at Spike, and he showed Asher. “He’s typing a response.”

 

Asher made a small sound of amusement as he smiled around the bottle’s nipple. 

 

Spike read Clem’s message to his son, “’Glad to hear it. Buffy’s a nice girl. Oop. I suppose she’s a woman now.’” 

 

Spike lifted his eyes to Asher and arched an eyebrow, “That’s true, but your mum was one before.” 

 

His son’s only response was to stare with wide eyes. He always did that when Spike lifted one eyebrow and not the other. It was like he was trying to suss out how his father made that happen.

 

Spike continued reading, “‘Anyway, how about you tell me your other news in person? I’m in town. You live in the Big Easy, right? That young man, Andrew, told me when I ran into him at this little café in Paris.’” 

 

Looking up again, Spike explained, “Andrew can be a bit of a wanker, but he means well.” 

 

Asher paused in his drinking and laughed at the inflection of annoyance in Spike’s voice.

 

Spike’s resulting smile lingered on his lips as he finished the text. “‘Talk about a small world. Anyway, I’m in town! Want to meet up?’” 

 

“Huh. Do you suppose Clem would want to come over here? He could meet you, and it would keep you on your routine to please your mum. We could have a couple of beers after I tuck you up snug as a bug in your crib. What do you think?” 

 

Spike waited for Asher’s reply, but he didn’t give one. Now that Spike was done with the text, the baby was re-focused on eating. He loved his milk the way Spike loved the different flavors of blood Buffy kept stocked in the refrigerator. Of course, he also loved Buffy’s blood, and nowadays, she gave of it and freely. Best not to think about that now.

 

He typed off his suggestion, “How about you come round the house, mate? Got some beers in the fridge. Buffy has some Doritos around here somewhere.”

 

More dots. And then, “No, bud. I’m at this little hole in the wall restaurant just outside the Quarter. They have this local beer that I love on tap, and they have the best cracklins. I love cracklins. You just can’t find the good ones outside of Louisiana. Come on out! It’s pretty empty here. We could get caught up. I’m only here for a night.”

 

Spike frowned and glanced at the baby. Buffy was always encouraging him to reconnect with his demon roots, and she liked Clem. Spike texted, “It’s quiet?”

 

“Yep. Just me and this couple who look like they’re on a date,” was the quick reply. “The waiter said there’s some sort of hullaballoo on the other side of the Quarter. Making business slow all over.”

 

Spike missed Clem, and one beer couldn’t hurt, right? And it sounded like the trouble Buffy was helping investigate was far enough away that the baby wouldn’t be in danger. He’d babywear the tyke, catch up with Clem, and have Asher back home and in bed for his bedtime at seven. “One beer. That’s all I have time for.”

 

“Perfect. Let me text you the address.” 

 

Spike hurried to the hall closet and pulled out the Lillebaby carrier. He tried to ignore how complicated the straps looked but made sure to grab the instruction manual. The overstuffed diaper backpack was on the counter, and he rummaged around to make sure all the supplies were there: extra nappies, a spare outfit, one of the Wubbanubs (an orange tabby), baby wipes, and Asher’s jacket. It was winter in New Orleans but not terribly cold. Still, he’d need the extra layer. Spike thought for a moment and decided to toss in a couple of baby toys: the waffle teether and a rattle with interesting bits to fidget with. Then, he put together a spare bottle, poured in some formula, put in the stopper, and capped the entire contraption with a lid before sliding it in the cooling side of the pack. 

 

By the time Spike had finished preparations, Asher was done with his milk and watching his father with curiosity on his little face. 

 

“You ready, Ash?”

 

Asher responded by smiling, burping, and hitting his tray with enthusiasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC...
> 
> Btw, if you haven't had cracklins...omg, they're delicious! A must try as long as you eat meat. I was totally skeptical, but my husband made me try them (the fresh warm kind) and they blew me away.  
> The Lillebaby carrier is amazing, and Spike is using Dr. Brown's bottles. (Microwaving isn't always the best but desperate times...)  
> In rewatching Adventures and Babysitting clips, I was really struck by how much Brenda reminded me of Barb in Stranger Things...


	2. Just a Bite to Eat

Spike realized as soon as he drove into the parking lot that the restaurant wasn’t really a restaurant but was more of a bar that served food. Clem was right about one thing though: no one was here. There were two cars parked in the cracked and pitted lot. Spike chose the spot closest to the entrance in case he needed a quick getaway. He glanced in the rearview mirror as he put the car in park and saw in the seat mirror that Asher was wide awake. 

 

Getting out, Spike first opened the car door directly behind him, stuffing the carrier into the top of the already overflowing backpack. Then, he circled around to Asher’s side of the car. Swinging open the door, he beamed at the baby, who babbled with happiness and waved his arms at him. “Hey there, lil Nugget.” He started unstrapping the baby: first the buckle over his chest and then the latches at the bottom. “Gonna meet one of your dad’s old chums.” 

 

Baby safely against his hip, he locked the car and headed into the bar, the Cajun music and smell of fried fish beckoning him inside. He made a face at the hint of stale cigarette smoke, something he tried not to expose Asher to. When Spike scanned the small dark space, no one was actively smoking. It was probably okay for an hour or so. 

 

Clem stood up from a wooden table in the far corner of the darkly-decorated bar and waved his flappy arm with enthusiasm as if Spike couldn’t see him. “Spike! Over here!” 

 

The couple Clem referenced must have gone, and Spike felt a wave of nostalgia at seeing his friend. Asher was quiet as he usually was in a new situation. Spike had noticed that he was an observant boy and had decided that he’d gotten it from both sides of his family. 

 

Clem’s mouth formed a little “o” as he saw the baby in Spike’s arms, and his eyes softened. “Ohhh, Spike. Who do you have here? You’re not babysitting, are you? I mean, who had a kid? Buffy?” He squinted his red eyes. “He’s got her green eyes. Let me guess. She got pregnant when you two were on a break, and you took her back anyway and love her little guy as your own? OR. You’re babysitting as part of your new gig to make money since you got the soul and stealing and cheating aren’t part of your repertoire anymore? I can totally see that because you were so good with the Dawnster. OR. You got back together with Harmony, and you somehow magically created a baby together?” Clem’s tone shifted just a little on his last theory.

 

Spike lifted both eyebrows and smiled. “Guess again, mate. You’re way off. Surprised the little action figure collector didn’t tell you.”

 

Clem slumped his shoulders in defeat. “He didn’t tell me anything like this.”

 

“That’d be a first.” 

 

Clem’s eyes rolled up to the ceiling as if he was trying to remember what the remaining member of the nerd trio had told him. “He did tell me that all the Sunnydale crew is semi-retired from the main stage of the fight against badness and that he’s working closely with Giles to come up with new and exciting ways to use technology in the fight against evil on a global scale.”

 

This time Spike snorted. “Hardly. The Watcher puts up with him, mostly to keep an eye on him, but Rupert is still reasonably and unreasonably wary of incorporating technology willy-nilly.”

 

The bartender meandered up, a dark-skinned man with golden cat eyes and a long tail that flicked back and forth, which for some reason made Spike think of Charlie. “How can I help you?”

 

Clem perked up and reached back, snagging an empty beer glass and waving it just a bit. “I’d love another Abita. Spike?”

 

“That sounds good.”

 

The bartender nodded, not bothering to write anything down. “Want a food menu?” he asked Spike.

 

“No, thanks.”

 

The cat-man tucked the nubby pencil behind his ear. “All right. Two Abitas.”

 

Spike suddenly remembered that he’d forgotten the green beans. Buffy was going to dust him if he didn’t stay on schedule. “Say. You don’t happen to have any green beans, do you?”

 

“They come on the plate with the catfish.”

 

Clem gestured at the table. “Get the plate. They have a buffet of spicy sauce.” 

 

Spike grinned when he saw the eight little bottles. “All right then.”

 

“Two orders of the catfish plate?” The bartender sounded less than enthusiastic. 

 

“Yep! And oh, some more cracklins,” Clem added. “The spicy variety.”

 

“Got it. It’ll be right out.” He blinked his cat eyes at Spike. “Sorry, we don’t have a highchair.”

 

Spike shrugged. “No worries, mate. He sits on my lap just fine.” He thought of something else that he’d forgotten. “Do you mind pureeing the green beans?”

 

The bartender raised his eyebrows at Spike and then glanced at the baby, who was sucking on a finger. “Sure. Why not? I’ve had weirder requests.”

 

Spike was sure he had. “Thanks.” He slid out one of the heavily chipped and scarred chairs and sat down, balancing little Asher on one leg with the baby’s back against his belly. 

 

Clem followed suit and gestured at the baby as he leaned forward. “He sure is cute. And you haven’t answered my question.”

 

“Question?” Spike pretended to not know what Clem was referring to.

 

“You know. Whose baby is he?”

 

“Your third theory is definitely incorrect. I wouldn’t touch that bint with a ten-foot pole.” 

 

“Not anymore, right?” Clem sounded sort of oddly relieved and watched Spike with intense curiosity. “So, which of my other two theories is close?”

 

Asher grabbed at the napkin on the table, and Spike handed it to him to play with after inspecting it for traces of beer. Asher held the bit of paper up in the air as if it was something amazing.

 

Spike decided it wasn’t worth torturing his friend anymore. Plus, he was proud of his hard-won son. “He’s mine. Mine and Buffy’s.” He patted the boy’s warm chubby thigh and then gently pulled on his arm to take the napkin out of his mouth. “His name is Asher.”

 

Clem slouched back in his chair with his jaw dropping open and arms hanging down. “H-how? Magic? Blood from a Mohra demon? And hey, Asher. Nice name.”

 

“Thanks, mate.” Spike leaned over to the chair next to him where he’d plunked the backpack. He tossed the carrier on the table and rummaged around in the bag’s bottomless pit. His fingers closed around the waffle teether, and he handed it to his drooling son, who eagerly popped it in his mouth. “He’s teething,” Spike explained. “And it’s a long story, but we did IVF at this place in Denver.”

 

“IVF? Is that some kind of spell?”

 

Spike lifted his scarred eyebrow. “Might as well be.” A long, drawn out, intricate spell that took months. “But no. No magic. Science. Stands for in vitro fertilization.”

 

“But last I heard, vampires don’t have living sperm. Unless. . .” Clem perked up. “Unless there’s something metaphysical about a vampire and a Slayer together that allows you to procreate! OR. You went back in time and got a sample from yourself when you were human!”

 

“No. There’s nothing to the Slayer-vampire procreation thing. I’d know. And no, we didn’t time travel. That’d be bloody crazy.” Spike inhaled and decided at that moment to tell his friend the truth. He didn’t really trust anyone else in the demon crowd to know. But since he and Buffy were seen at the clinic by that Grappler demon, he was fairly certain it was widely known that he and the Slayer had done IVF. “We used a relative’s sperm.” He didn’t want to say more than that. The cat demon might be listening. 

 

“Ah. That makes a lot of sense. So, he’s related to you. That’s pretty cool.” Clem hunched forward and searched Asher’s face. “He does have your features more than Buffy’s, I think. I mean, he has her eyes, but yep, I see you in there.”

 

Spike wasn’t sure, but he liked to think so and more than appreciated Clem saying so. Spike didn’t have any photos of himself as a tyke, so he had nothing to compare Asher to, and he’d only seen one photo of Shane as a baby, which Charlotte had texted him. Spike kissed the top of the baby’s head; no matter who he looked like, he loved his son. 

 

At that moment, the bartender wandered over with a tray balanced on his palm. Ceramic clattered against the wood as he tossed the plates of fish, green beans, and French fries on the table. The beans on both plates were pureed. The bowl of cracklins was calling Spike’s name. Two mugs of beer and two napkin-wrapped sets of utensils followed the food. “Y’all need anything else?” 

 

“Nope,” Clem said happily. “This is perfect. Thanks!”

 

As the cat demon walked away, Spike unwrapped the knife and fork. Great. No spoon. He’d have to use the butter knife. That was safe enough, right? He took a long gulp of his beer. “Sorry ‘bout your beans there.”

 

“No worries.” Clem shoveled a forkful into his mouth. “Interesting texture,” he said with his mouth full.

 

After popping a piece of spicy cracklins in his mouth, Spike swiveled all the bottles of hot sauce around to read the labels and chose the one his tongue was preferring of late. Thumbing open the cap, he slung several drops over the crispy fish and fries. Asher watched him with wide eyes and tried to grab at a fry hanging over the edge of the plate near him. “Hold on there, Nip. Fries aren’t on the menu yet.” He had no idea what fried potato would do to his son’s digestive system, but he was sure it wouldn’t lead to very pretty nappies. Not that poopy nappies were at all attractive. But changing diapers for his wife had led to some very nice romps in bed with her while the baby slept. He considered Buffy’s promise to him earlier in the evening, and he couldn’t wait until she came home all hyped up from slaying. In the meantime, Asher was hungry. Spike picked up the knife and scooped a dollop of the green beans onto the dull blade. “Here you go.” 

 

Asher opened his mouth for the green beans and happily rolled the food around in his mouth. Thank god, he wasn’t spitting it out. Spike had also forgotten the bib. 

 

As Spike continued to feed the baby and ignored his own cooling food, Clem chattered on about his own life and what he’d been up to. He’d only spent a short amount of time in L.A. before he evacuated that city before the apocalypse, and he’d been traveling the world. 

 

“Got a confession though,” Clem said as he finished his fish and chips and settled back with his beer perched on his thigh. He tapped his other leg with his right hand; Spike knew his friend well enough to know that had always been one of his tells during poker. Clem was anxious.

 

“What’s that?” Spike asked, taking a swig of his own Abita and giving Asher a small hug. 

 

“When I was in Paris, I ran into more than just Andrew in the café. Well, I didn’t run into said other person in the café itself.”

 

“Oh?” Now Spike was intrigued. What had Clem so nervous that now his leg was shaking up and down, too?

 

“I sort of. . . well, kind of. . .” His eyes shifted toward the bar and the open seating. 

 

“Spit it out. Who’d you run into? Harmony?” Spike joked over the rim of his mug.

 

“Wellllllll. . .” 

 

“Harmony?!” Spike choked on his beer and then laughed. Asher peeked up at the sound and giggled, too.

 

“I sorta,” Clem wrinkled his nose and squinted at Spike as if he was afraid the vampire might punch him, “I sorta slept with her.”

 

It was Spike’s turn to look shocked. When he recovered enough to speak, he simply said, “Good on you, mate.”

 

Clem relaxed his features a fraction. “Y-you’re not mad?”

 

Spike offered Asher more green beans, which he ate with enthusiasm. “Nah. Been done with her for many years. You’re more than welcome to sleep with any of my exes. Well, except Dru. That’d probably bother me still. Truth be told. Don’t care who she sleeps with as long as it’s not one of my mates.” He thought back to the badness that was sleeping with the vengeance demon. He still remembered the look in Buffy’s eyes even though he’d been indignant and hurting. Poor choice on his part. 

 

“That leaves Harmony. That’s your only ex besides Dru.” 

 

Spike thought for a moment. “Right. You’re right.” 

 

“And I only slept with her once,” Clem added.

 

Spike’s head shot up. “Once? Dru?” 

 

Clem raised both hands to placate Spike. “No, no. Harmony. To be honest, I think I’m done with her, too.”

 

“Don’t blame you.” Spike felt relieved, and he wondered if Buffy would be pissed at him for being bothered that he didn’t want his friends sleeping with Dru. Probably best not to ask her that one.

 

“She’s beautiful, but she talks too much, and I enjoy conversation but not that much conversation. And it’s conversation about nothing. Did you ever notice that when you were with her?” 

 

A foul smell rose to Spike’s nose. Uh oh. Asher was in the process of soiling his nappy. He’d never changed the baby in a public place before. It couldn’t be that different than home. Reaching over, he dug out a diaper and the packet of unscented wipes. “S’cuse me.”

 

With a little too much eagerness, Clem rattled on, “Diaper change? Need help? I mean, not that I could help really but. . .” 

 

Spike held up his full hand as he stood, the chair scraping against the floor. “Nah. Got the nappy changing down now, especially since we’re past the stage of squirting poop.”

 

“I thought you had to worry about the squirting. . . other stuff,” Clem said, surprisingly unwilling to say urine. 

 

“It’s the squirting poop that’s the worst. This one time, before we started changing him in the bathroom, he squirted all over his bedroom wall. Bloody changing tables are useless. Don’t know why people buy into the hype over the soft cushion and the colorful covers. We never use ours.” Spike rolled his eyes.

 

Clem looked impressed. “You sure do know a lot about this father stuff.”

 

“That’s ‘cause I am one. Trial by fire and all that.”

 

“Sounds. . . fun.” Clem’s tone was skeptical.

 

Spike held up his son a little higher and studied his sweet face. Asher smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but smile in return. “It’s all worth it when they smile back at you.”

 

Clem studied them both. “I think I can kind of see that. I’d love to hold him when you get back.”

 

“Sure, mate. Just let me get him changed.” 

 

Luckily Asher’s poops were small in volume because there was nowhere to change a baby in the bar’s tiny bathroom. Spike even popped into the ladies’ washroom to see if there was one of those changing tables built into the wall. No such luck. He ended up balancing the baby on the tiny sink while juggling the wipes and spare nappy. Spike took so long that Asher started crying and struggling, which made everything more difficult. Spike dropped the package of wipes on the dirty tile floor. Luckily, the package was face up, and he managed to pluck out the wipes while holding Asher in place. Fifteen minutes later, the nappy was in place, Spike had cleaned up the poop that managed to find its way down his son’s leg, and Asher was placated by a cuddle from his father. Spike kissed his son’s forehead and chunked the soiled nappy and wad of poop-covered wipes in the garbage can before exiting the bathroom. 

 

The sound of multiple voices. . . gruff voices met his ears.

 

“Sounds like the bar has more patrons,” Spike muttered to his son as he re-entered the bar. He stomach sank. What the bloody hell had he gotten himself into now? 

 

Clem motioned him over with a broad grin on his face. “Spike! Surprise! I invited some of the guys I met at the airport over for a round of kitten poker. I wrangled five kittens for you.” He held up an orange tabby that struggled to be put down and let out a meow of despair.

 

The four other demons at the table were not easy going like Clem. Spike felt the anger and competitiveness heating the air. It was familiar and exciting. God, how he’d missed it! At the same time, he sensed his son’s reticence, felt him drawing back and clinging, his little heart beating faster. Spike was torn. . . so incredibly torn. He should really make up a plausible excuse to leave and now before – 

 

“Get over here, vampire,” growled a scarlet demon with dark grey spines sticking out of almost every pore of his body. He patted the empty chair next to him. The pat wasn’t a welcoming invitation; it was a command. Normally, Spike didn’t give in to such demands, but he was worried about his son’s safety.

 

With his hand cupping the Asher’s vulnerable head, Spike held the baby close. It looked like he didn’t have a choice. Buffy was definitely going to dust him, and if something happened to Asher, Spike would dust himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would be super fun to include some of the ways fanfic has allowed Spike and Buffy to conceive by having Clem theorize about how it happened. It made me laugh...probably not a good thing making myself laugh. Thanks to those who left reviews on Small Boat with potential conception ideas. 
> 
> And totally included some of my own faux pas here in taking baby out for the first time. You inevitably forget something.


	3. The Accidental Round of Kitten Poker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote up little bios for each of the three poker players aside from Clem and Spike and had a whole section of how kitten poker works (in addition to reminding myself of the rules of Texas Hold 'Em) that did not go with the flow of the story, so just know that I don't describe all the parts but did think about them! The rules for poker, as you can imagine, are different when demons are playing.

Spike had been playing kitten poker for years and knew what he was getting into. Hence, the powerful need to figure a way out of this as soon as possible without offending any of the demons at the table, including Clem. 

 

Clem was lucky; his kind was usually laid back and affable. When he was caught cheating, there was a fight, but people usually went easy on him. Clem used that to his advantage and usually walked away with a fair number of kittens. Vampires, on the other hand, were never trusted, and many, mostly those that weren’t master vampires, were left in a pile of dust.

 

This was not a poker table for a human infant to be sitting around, and yet, there Spike found himself with Asher’s small warm body pressed up against him. With wide eyes, his son watched the demons and roly-poly, mewling kittens while diligently sucking on his kitten Wubbanub. How ironic. Spike just hoped that none of the players decided that a human baby was worth throwing into the pot.

 

Working hard to keep his baby-free leg from jiggling and wishing he had another beer, Spike peeled up the corner of the two cards he’d just been dealt in the fifth hand of the game. 

 

A pair of kings. 

 

Well, bollucks. He was almost been out of kittens, and now he got this?

 

He just wanted out, but they’d know if he was throwing the game and wouldn’t care about the why. It just wasn’t done. So, when the bet came around to him, he casually said, “Raise half a kitten.” The four little words went against what all his father-instincts were screaming at him. Raising whole kittens at each round led to way too many kittens on the table, so partial kitten raises were preferable. He tried not to think about how keeping track of how many kittens one had was a bit murky, and division of winnings was often bloody.

 

The slight demon to Spike’s right, Feng, shifted in his chair so that the olive-colored scales covering his body glinted in the dim light. His tail flicked, and Spike kept an eye on the tip, which was capped with a barb that released a deadly poison if it penetrated flesh. Oddly enough, he was a history professor at Loyola, and he studied Spike with wide amber eyes. “See your half kitten and. . . yep.” 

 

“Oh oh,” Louis muttered to himself, picking at a pimple on his chin and swallowing the last of the cracklins he’d commandeered from Clem. “I don’t know what to do. I never know what to do.” Spike thought the young demon chef had no business in a kitten poker game. 

 

“Simple, kid,” the scarlet demon, Mike, growled, breaking up a small skirmish among three kittens who were tumbling toward his beer, “You check, raise, fold, or fight. What’ll it be?”

 

Louis picked up his cards and held them close to his face, his lavender wings tic-ing with his anxiety. He slammed them on the table and shut his eyes. Good lord, he was dramatic. “Fold. I fold.”

 

Everyone turned their attention to Clem, who was carefully examining a wriggling kitten that was teetering close to the edge of the table while not very stealthily scratching at the folds on his right arm. Spike recognized his friend’s classic switcheroo tactic, so he cleared his throat. When Clem didn’t respond, he coughed. “Clem. You’re up, mate.”

 

The loose-skinned demon feigned being startled. “Oh, really? Oh goodness. Kitten’s about to fall.” This didn’t matter at all because there were several kittens wandering around under the table, meowing and tumbling over one another. Successfully distracting everyone but Spike, Clem scooped the grey tabby back into the center of the table and managed to drop the unwanted card from his hand onto the floor, clap his foot over it, and place the one from his arm into his hand. He pretended to study his cards. “Hmmm. Okay. Following the bet here. Adding half a kitten.”

 

Spike smirked as Asher waved his arms. His Wubbanub dropped to the floor, and Spike bent to scoop it up before it stayed too long on the beer-soaked concrete, nudging aside a kitten that was curiously sniffing at this new object that had tumbled down from above. 

 

“Watcha doin’ there,” Arjun hissed, his forked tongue slipping out of his mouth. His words were a statement and not a question. 

 

“Retrieving my son’s pacifier,” Spike explained, intentionally using a firm tone and the American word for a dummy. Best not to show any hesitation or cause any confusion. Not all demons were the brightest bunch though he knew Arjun was Feng’s colleague at work but in the English department. Asher emitted a small grunt of urgency and strained to reach for the Wubbanub. Spike scrubbed at the green nipple with a clean baby wipe from the diaper backpack next to his chair and passed the huggable stuffed creature to his son, who popped the nipple in his mouth and resumed sucking.

 

Chomping on the toothpick he’d been using since he ate Spike’s food, Arjun narrowed his yellow-green eyes. “Uh huh. Be careful what you do, vampire. Bringing a human child to this game as a distraction is an interesting technique. Hope you’re not too attached to him.”

 

Spike, of course, was completely head-over-heels in love with the small boy on his lap. He let his eyes flash golden in warning. “Don’t even pretend to threaten the tot.”

 

“Fold,” said Arjun, slumping his tall, lean form hard against the back of his chair in a sullen manner.

 

“It is pretty odd,” Mike agreed, lighting a cigarette, which only ratcheted up Spike’s anger. Bloody hell, he didn’t give up his fags only to expose Asher to second-hand smoke at a sodding kitten poker game! 

 

Clem interrupted the tension fest. “So, um, Mike. In my middle age, I seem to have developed an allergy to cigarette smoke. My eyes get all watery and I feel queasy.” He held his stomach with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other. The fact that they were naturally red enhanced the allergy claim. “Mind putting it out?”

 

Spike’s face relaxed as it dawned on him what Clem was doing. Spike hadn’t even realized he’d been glaring at Mike. 

 

The large scarlet demon stared at Clem with daggers in his eyes; Spike thought that maybe the game might be over sooner than he’d anticipated. He glanced toward the exit. He could probably make it out the door and into the car in a handful of seconds. But wait. Sodding infant car seat! He should’ve brought it in with him. 

 

Mike took a long drag and leisurely puffed out the smoke. Then, with infinite slowness, he stamped out the fag. “Adding that half kitten.”

 

Though no one made a peep, there was a collective metaphorical sigh around the table. Spike’s was more irritated than the rest as he saw his window of opportunity rapidly closing. 

 

The flop card was a king.

 

Spike’s jaw tightened. Fuck. Asher’s head went back, and he stared at his daddy with curiosity in his wide green eyes. Spike tried to lower his intensity and patted his son’s leg in reassurance. Spike wasn’t sure if he was comforting himself or the tiny boy. 

 

Mike was expressionless and raised his bet, which left Spike to raise another half a kitten to stay in the game. 

 

Spike tried to remember how many kittens he had left. “Got a quarter kitten left. I’m all in.” Not that that helped him in the least.

 

With a pot-stirring glint in his eyes, Arjun pointed a casual finger at Asher. “You could bet the baby.”

 

This time, Spike immediately shifted into game face. “I most certainly will not.”

 

Clem cleared his throat. “Let’s show some decency here. No one’s betting or taking anyone’s child.” 

 

Arjun snorted but shrugged. “If you say so. I don’t understand how he got stuck babysitting a human child that clearly can’t be his.” 

 

It took everything in Spike not to reach across the table and snap Arjun’s neck. As it stood, Spike didn’t relax a muscle. He really needed out of here and now.

 

Yeng was silent for a long time – almost too long, one taloned index finger lightly touching his bottom lip, his other hand petting a kitten’s head. The black kitten preened, rubbed his head against the demon’s palm, and purred, oblivious to its potential fate. After what seemed like an eternity, he simply said, “Too rich for my blood.” 

 

Everyone turned to Clem, who happily chirped, “I can do half a kitten!”

 

The round continued with Mike and Clem adding more and more to the pot as Spike’s dread grew with each card turn. He was all in, and the turn and river yielded a pair of aces. Now, he had a bloody full house. The final bet was placed, and Mike, Clem, and Spike were left. 

 

“All right!” Mike clapped his hands. “Lay ‘em out.”

 

With great reluctance, Spike flipped over his cards, gently pushing Asher’s hand away from the sharp claws of the grey-and-white spotted kitten that he was attempting to grab. 

 

Clem turned his cards with a triumphant expression, and Mike tossed his cards toward the middle of the table. Spike quickly scanned the results. Mike had a pair of queens, and Clem somehow had four aces. Spike resisted the urge to shout with joy. Four of a kind and four aces unequivocally beat his full house of kings and aces. 

 

Mike shook his head in disappointment, and Clem grinned, counting the kittens on the table to add to the mental tabulation of his stash.

 

Shifting back to his human guise to at least pretend civility and hopefully get out in one piece, Spike pushed back from the table. “Well, gents, that means I’m all out of kittens, and I need to get the boy in bed. It’s well past his bedtime. Clem, thank you for the visit and the game. Night all.” Asher yawned to punctuate Spike’s assertion. He stood and propped his son on his hip, snagging the diaper backpack and baby carrier from the floor. He set the bag on his chair and zipped it up before slinging it over his shoulder. 

 

Clem grinned at him and raised his beer. “Until next time.”

 

Spike tried not to stride too quickly toward the door, tossed a wad of cash onto the bar to pay for his beer and food, and nodded casually at the bartender, feeling a twinge of camaraderie. Now that he thought about it, he seemed to remember seeing the bloke at one of the drink-slinging trainings in town. The cat demon’s only acknowledgment was to lift one eyebrow at him. 

 

“W-wait!” Louis shouted belatedly as Spike’s hand landed on the door. Spike’s head shot up, and he realized that the younger demon was gesturing at Clem. “He cheated! I had an ace of hearts in my hand! There’s no way he had four aces!” 

 

Everyone at the table stood almost simultaneously, and a kitten leaped to the floor, falling on his tiny face. 

 

Clem held up his hands, palms forward. “Now, guys.”

 

Spike ground his teeth and briefly closed his eyes. He addressed Asher, “So, guess we have to stay for a few. Try not to watch, okay?” Buffy was strict about watching the fighting. Even though the tyke probably wouldn’t remember a thing, Spike knew the boy could pick up on the emotions. He didn’t want to scar his child. He’d have plenty of his own trials to deal with as he grew up.

 

Backtracking toward the cluster of demons, Spike plunked the backpack and baby carrier on the bar. “Mind if I – ” 

 

The bartender sighed and shook his head. “Go ahead.” He held out his arms and gently took Asher. “Try to minimize the damage if you don’t mind. Third fight this week.”

 

Spike nodded his agreement. “Right.”

 

Then, he hurtled himself back toward the group of demons, dodging a mix of fearful and playful kittens and somehow managing not to step on any of the little buggers. Mike was holding Clem up by the back of his collar while Arjun searched his folds and Louis was hunkered down on the ground, searching for extra cards, which totally defeated the purpose because the table was turned on its side and cards were everywhere. Feng was leaning with his back against the wall and scrolling through something on his phone, obviously not caring about the whole scuffle. Poor Clem’s face was turning purple from the air being cut off in his neck.

 

“Hey!” Spike shouted. “Unhand my friend.”

 

“What’s it to you, vampire?” Arjun hissed, his tongue causing a lisp on his “s” in his fit of temper.

 

“And aren’t you a vampire?” Mike’s deep voice was tight with fury, the knuckles on his hand straining and the muscles in his bicep tight, the spikes almost popping out of his flesh. “He was cheating, and you’ll be lucky to escape alive. Or undead or whatever you fellows like to say about yourselves.”

 

Feng didn’t seem to really want to get involved, and Louis was now cowering on the other side of the room, nervously picking pimples and too in over his head to jump in the fray. So, that left Mike and Arjun, and Spike had serious doubts about taking on them both. 

 

Still, a grin spread over his face. Since when did that stop him? Plus, Clem was going to pass out if Spike waited much longer.

 

With a swirl of emotions churning through his gut, he balled his hand into a fist and swung with gusto at Mike’s nose – the one place he didn’t have spines aside from his eyes and lips and where he was probably most vulnerable. His fist landed home and made a satisfying crunch that led to an immediate howl of pain and release of Clem, who stumbled backward coughing as air rushed back into his lungs. 

 

Eyes squeezed shut in pain, Mike held his nose and growled, lashing out with his free arm at anyone around him, probably blindly hoping to take someone down. The problem was that he missed Spike and Clem completely, stepped on the tail of a startled bit of fluff that let out a high-pitched squeal, stumbled forward in a little half turn, and managed to drive one of the bigger spines at his elbow into Arjun’s middle. 

 

Arjun screamed as he was gored, and Clem picked up a chair and brained him over the head with it so that he lost consciousness and crumpled to the ground, narrowly missing the same white kitten with the crushed tail. 

 

Spike made eye contact with Clem who was still panting but seemed otherwise unharmed. Every muscle still tense with adrenaline, Spike nodded at his friend. Clem didn’t say a word and hustled past Spike, pausing only to bend down and scoop up a couple of kittens. 

 

Feng was still trolling the net, and Louis stared at Spike in fear. He smirked at the poor cowering bloke and hurried over to Asher.

 

The corner of the bartender’s mouth lifted. “Nice job.”

 

Spike accepted the small weight of his baby back into his arms, and he was never so grateful to have the little guy close, his tiny heartbeat faintly audible. “Not too much of a mess, eh?”

 

“Nope. Next time you come in, have a beer on me.”

 

“I’ll take you up on that.” Spike snagged the diaper backpack and carrier and hightailed it after Clem into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!! Also, I wish we had a Spike-with-kitten emoji! A side note: my dad taught me to play poker when I was really young. He used to host games with his co-workers at our house, and he'd let me sneak and sit in his lap while they played. He'd be a foul mood if he lost (they played for nickels, dimes, and quarters) and in a great mood if he won.
> 
> And I once played in a poker tournament in a bar in Lubbock when I was in grad school. It's illegal to gamble in Texas, so we played for fun (and I think the final three got gift cards). There were a ton of people (mostly men and my then boyfriend) and tables, but I made it to the final table...probably because everyone underestimated the girl. lol


	4. Escape into the Quarter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yellowb, there is a surprise here for you...

Once outside the bar, Spike briefly considered jumping into the Civic and driving away from any possible conflict. He even opened the door to the back seat. But there was no way he could quickly strap Asher into his infant seat, and he darn well wasn’t going to drive with the baby in his lap. With a growl, he slammed the door and locked it. 

 

Surprisingly, Asher hadn’t made a peep and hadn’t cried; Spike thought it was probably because the baby was so startled by all the hubbub. That, and he still had the Wubbanub in his mouth. He kissed the baby’s cheek and rushed after Clem, who had darted left down a side street toward the Quarter. 

 

Spike was all about feeling responsible when it came to the people he cared about, and he couldn’t let Clem wander off into more trouble. And being in the French Quarter lent itself to all kinds of trouble of the supernatural and regular variety. Spike was relieved to find that Bourbon Street hadn’t swung into high gear yet. It was still way too early, and the crowds weren’t out to party yet. Even the normal Bourbon Street stench was mild as it often was at the beginning of the evening.

 

He just hoped he didn’t run into Buffy; he wished he could remember what part of the Quarter she and the other Slayers were going to be in, especially because Willow was trying that new spell that blocked detection of the Slayer signature that most supernatural beings could detect. He liked the idea in theory, but at the moment, it wasn’t ideal. She’d have his head for having their son out so late and in a kitten poker game. She’d encouraged him to go out to do demon-related things, but Spike was fairly sure she didn’t mean with Asher in tow.

 

Spying Clem rushing down St. Peter’s, Spike hustled to catch up, dodging around a young boy who was dancing for tips, a horse-drawn carriage full of tourists, and a couple who were already very inebriated, leaning heavily on one another and struggling to walk in a straight line. Piano music poured out from Pat O’Brien’s, lending liveliness to the otherwise quiet side street. 

 

Clem was so hyper-focused on moving ahead that he almost jumped out of his skin and shrieked when Spike showed up next to him. Even though his hand was full of kittens, the loose-skinned demon held his hand to his heart and laughed. “Oh, you scared me!”

 

“Couldn’t let my mate get lost in the Quarter.” 

 

“Thanks. I have no idea where I’m going.” The kittens meowed, and Clem held the white one up. “Kitten? I figured we should get something out of the whole deal.” 

 

“Nah. I don’t think so.” Spike stroked his son’s back, and Asher laid his head on Spike’s shoulder. It wasn’t exactly a purposeful motion because Asher wasn’t that coordinated, but Spike would take the bit of affection. “Not sure we need a pet in the midst of getting used to having the little guy in the house.”

 

Clem gave him a funny look. “As a pet? Surely not.”

 

Spike shrugged his free shoulder and gave his friend a sheepish grin. “What can I say? I’m Slayer-whipped.” And he didn’t mind in the least; he bit his lip at the thought of Buffy standing in the doorway to their bedroom with fire in her green eyes. 

 

Clem shook his head and thrust the kitten forward with insistence. “Take her anyway. I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. What you do with her is up to you.”

 

Spike gave in, knowing that Clem would probably forget his offer later. “Hold onto him for me. Got my hands full.” 

 

Clem glanced nervously back the direction they’d come. “Should we, um, head on? In case they come after us?”

 

Spike nodded but for a different reason entirely. “Yeah. Want to head to Frenchmen?” He needed to avoid Buffy and if they went to the Spotted Cat, he could potentially set Asher up to sleep in the back away from the smoke and partygoers. Luckily, the little guy could sleep through a hurricane.

 

“French men? Is that a weird kind of spa? Or a place for only men from France?” Clem cocked his head to one side. “I suppose that makes kind of sense because New Orleans is technically a French city.”

 

Moving closer to the building out of the street to allow a cab to drive by, Spike chuckled. “No. It’s a street. The bar where I work is there, and it’s a bit more relaxed than the Quarter in the evening.”

 

“I could use relaxed. And another beer.”

 

Spike gazed at the drowsy infant and carefully unstrapped the backpack from his shoulders, setting it on the ground. Then, he held up the baby carrier, frowning. Huh. There were many straps that went god knew where, he’d left the manual behind, and the darkness on the side street wasn’t helping.

 

“Need some help?” Clem asked, unzipping the backpack and slipping both kittens into the main compartment with the zipper mostly open. Spike made a mental note to make sure his friend took both kittens with him.

 

“You got any ideas about how to use this bloody thing?” 

 

“Um, yeah. My sister has a little gal. I babysat when I visited. Think she had the same one.” That was convenient, but somehow, Spike wasn’t surprised by Clem’s revelation. He’d come to expect a bit of the unexpected from his friend. 

 

“Allow me?” Clem offered his hand.

 

Spike readily handed over the inexplicable contraption. “Have at it, mate.”

 

Clem set his shoulders, cocked his head, and studied the carrier. Then, he began to adjust a strap here and there, looping parts around Spike’s waist first. He held out the pouch in the front with almost reverence. “Put your son here.”

 

Spike hesitated only a moment and then eased the drowsy baby onto the flap that Clem held with steady hands. 

 

“Lean your head forward,” Clem commanded. 

 

Spike did as he was told, and Clem eased the neck strap over Spike’s head and the other loose bits over his arms. With little fanfare, Asher was snug as a bug against Spike’s chest and mid-section, his breathing slowing with the comforting touch of his father being so close. 

 

“There!” Clem’s mouth formed a satisfied line. “How does it feel?”

 

“Secure. Thanks, mate.” 

 

“You’re welcome! Now, where is this Frenchmen Street?”

 

Spike inclined his head to the left and opened his mouth to speak when around the corner on Royal, he heard a dog barking. Somewhere he’d heard that particular variation in a string of barks. He narrowed his eyes as his head shot up, and he saw Liz’s dog, Gershwin, hurtling around the corner and running straight for them, her leash dragging on the pitted concrete street. 

 

Oh, balls. 

 

The light brown standard poodle put on the brakes right in front of Spike and tilted her head to one side as if surprised to see him. Spike briefly considered running away with the baby, but he decided that’d be futile. Plus, he couldn’t resist and scratched the poodle behind her soft ears. 

 

Her boots clacking on the concrete, Liz came barreling after her dog – if a bit belatedly. The short-haired Slayer from Lafayette had a stake cleverly concealed in her hand, and Spike felt – nothing. She hadn’t sent the remotest tingle down his spine to indicate she was a Slayer. Damn. The witch’s spell was good. He knew it worked because they’d practiced on him, but that had been at the house. In the field, the lack of inkling was. . . disconcerting. 

 

Liz skidded to a stop next to her dog who angled her head back as if to say, “I found your vampire, but I know him. He’s married to that other-nice-Slayer lady. What do I do now?!?” Gershwin was trained to sniff out the undead the same way drug dogs ferreted out illicit substances.

 

Picking up the leash, the Slayer ran her hand to the end and then patted her dog’s furry side. “What on earth are you doing here? Buffy said you were babysitting.” 

 

Spike’s hand splayed out over the lump of dozing Asher. “I am watching the baby.” His attempt to hide his defensive indignation completely failed. It was Clem’s fault for starting the niggling feeling. Spike wasn’t babysitting. He was spending time with his son, who should technically be on his way to dreamland in his own crib. 

 

Liz smirked and crossed her arms. “Lucky it’s me and not your S.O. We’re dividing and conquering the Quarter in attempt to find the baddies who’ve been munching on the tourists. I’m assigned Bourbon because I have Dog here. In a few, there’ll be too many people to sort out for one person – even a Slayer.” She lifted her eyebrows at Clem and addressed Spike. “Who is this?” She chewed her lower lip for a moment and then held out her hand to Clem who looked a little uncomfortable. “I’m Liz. Buffy and Spike’s friend and the Slayer from Lafayette.” Misinterpreting Clem’s dazed expression for confusion, she clarified, “Katie and I – we’re all on board the not-all-demons-are-evil-and-should-be-slayed bandwagon. And if you’re hanging out with Spike and little Asher here, you must be in the okay column.” 

 

“He’s a decent sort,” Spike agreed. “And you can’t tell she’s a Slayer because of one of Willow’s spells.”

 

“Yep!” Liz beamed, her hand going to the leash to hold her eager dog close. “So, it’s working, right? Wasn’t sure how it’d really work. And we haven’t run into any vampires or demons yet. Well, until you two.”

 

“It’s definitely working. Don’t feel a thing.”

 

“Oh good!” She turned back to Clem and re-extended her hand.

 

Clem smiled at her and grasped her hand in both of his. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss – ”

 

She shook his hand. “Liz. Just Liz. No Miss.”

 

“Okay, Liz.”

 

“And it’s nice to meet you, too. I don’t believe Spike’s brought you around before.”

 

Gershwin nudged her nose against Clem’s leg, sniffing him and then leaning her head back to lick the demon’s hand. Clem laughed and patted the dog. “That’s because I’m from out of town. Only here for the night.”

 

“Hence the going out. Very briefly,” Spike added. He needed to get Clem settled on Frenchmen and head home ASAP. He considered digging his cell out of the strata of baby things in the backpack to check for messages from Buffy, but he didn’t want to jinx himself. Besides, she had hers off. 

 

Liz laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell Buffy a thing. Just get out of here. Don’t head down around Café du Monde. That’s where she’s searching.”

 

“What’ll you do if you don’t find anything?” Clem asked, touching his head briefly. Spike thought he still seemed a bit self-conscious around a strange Slayer he couldn’t sense properly.

 

“We’re reconvening after a few hours at the cathedral. I think the plan is that Katie and I are going to be ‘the bait’ if no one finds anything.” Liz rolled her eyes and made air quotes with her fingers.

 

“Take it you’re not very fond of that plan,” Spike noted, running his hand over Asher’s rump. 

 

Liz inclined a finger at him. “Nail. Head. Slayers are not. . . bait-y-type people.” 

 

Then, they all noticed that the poodle was nosing around the open section of the baby bag. 

 

“What are you doing? Hey. Stop.” Liz bent and pulled Gershwin gently back. 

 

“Oh!” Clem squatted down and retrieved one of the meowing kittens to show the Slayer. “Poker winnings or rather – ”

 

“Okay!” Spike interrupted, zipping up the backpack and remaining kitten and looping his arm through the strap. “Liz, it’s good to see you. You’re right. We’ll get out of your way.”

 

She laughed, obviously not falling for his attempt at diversion. “Thanks. And take Bourbon. You won’t run into Buffy that way. Good luck.”

 

Spike pivoted in the direction of Bourbon, setting his shoulders. “Yep. Right.” He had a feeling that he and Asher were going to need a lot of luck before the night was through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liz is the Lafayette Slayer, and Katie is the Baton Rouge Slayer from Small Boat. They often help out with Emily (the New Orleans Slayer). Buffy is semi-retired, so she helps out because New Orleans has a mini-Hellmouth. 
> 
> Baby carriers are difficult to use...haha. Lots of straps. Lillebaby makes a great breathable one for the hot climate...though that isn't an issue here because it's winter. 
> 
> And see there with the kitten? More to come soon...just finished chapter seven, so I'm staying ahead.


	5. More than a Life of Choices

As they drew closer to Frenchmen, Spike saw movement in the corner of his peripheral vision, and his mind flagged the complete lack of heartbeat in the shadows. The vampire was lingering and seemed to move with them. Spike had detected another vampire earlier on Bourbon but knew that Gershwin and Liz were behind them, so he’d left that one to the young Slayer. 

 

Something about being followed disconcerted him, but he didn’t question it too much because he had a now sleeping Asher to think of and Clem to get to Spotted Cat, which was close by. His friend kept nattering on – this time about the river cruise he took through Europe. The kitten had curled up in the crook of his arm and was somehow sleeping. 

 

After a few more streets, Spike’s annoyance reached a peak, and he let Clem continue to talk while he retrieved a stake from his boot without waking his son. 

 

Clem hesitated only a moment, his eyes widening at the sight of the bit of wood. He gently stroked the kitten’s head as they kept moving forward. “You know, I’m really enjoying traveling. I just wish I could find someone to travel with me.”

 

“I’d take you up, but I’m a bit tied down here.” Spike had gone everywhere with Dru, and he’d seen and done things most people only dreamed of being able to do, but now, he was strangely content to pass his days in the Big Easy with Buffy and his boy. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else. 

 

Clem studied Spike’s face as they slowed down, approaching the corner where the vampire was lingering. The fledge really wasn’t stealthy. “You really love being a dad.”

 

Spike softened and regarded the honey blonde hair on the top of his son’s head. He still smelled so new. Spike never got tired of that scent. 

 

The stalking vampire launched himself forward with arms raised and a low growl as Spike and his little caravan rounded the building. 

 

Spike rolled his eyes and held out the stake, easily puncturing the heart and stepping back and away from the resulting dust. “Can’t have Asher inhaling leftover vamp.” It was going to be bad enough that the nipper was going to be breathing secondhand smoke in the minute or two he was in the Spotted Cat. Spike had given up smoking for his son, and to be honest, for Buffy, too, in the interest of keeping them both around as long as possible. His wife risked enough still slaying, and he’d be damned if he gave her or his son lung cancer on top of everything else. He wasn’t sure Slayer healing powers could handle the big-C. 

 

“Ah,” Clem said, scratching his head. “That guy wasn’t very bright, was he?”

 

“Yeah. Weird. They don’t normally walk straight into a stake.” Spike checked to make sure Asher was still asleep. He was – his cheek pressed into Spike’s chest. His black T-shirt was damp from drool. 

 

“Asher ok?” Clem asked as they resumed their journey.

 

Spike ran his hand down Asher’s back. “He’s still sleeping.”

 

“Wow.”

 

Spike offered Clem a smile. “Sprog can sleep through a hurricane. Random fledge with little bite? That’s nothing.”

 

Clem laughed. “I guess it was pretty uneventful. And I guess he has to be used to it with his mom and dad doing what they do and being who they are.”

 

“Yeah.” Spike and Buffy had talked several times about how to handle the supernatural in little Asher’s world. It added a whole new layer to their parenting that other parents didn’t have. The wolf and witch had similar qualms about having a babe of their own though they’d only started trying of late. 

 

“You worry about any baddies coming after him? Targeting him for kidnapping and ransom?” Clem helped the now awake kitten up onto his shoulder where she perched, watching everything like a bird with fur, pointy teeth, and a swishing tail that moved of its own accord.

 

Spike shrugged. “No more worried than any reasonable parent would be in our situation. It’s like I told Buffy. We are better equipped than most parents to handle that sort of thing, and all we can do is keep our eyes open.”

 

“That is a very good point.” 

 

The evening was still young as Spike led Clem down Frenchmen, and not many people were out and about yet. The ones who were out were headed to dinner or to the Spotted Cat. It had been Spike’s idea to have a few hours of karaoke prior to the live band that came on later in the evening, and the idea had been a huge hit, attracting more guests much earlier in the evening. When they approached, Spike could hear someone belting out an off-key rendition of “Sweet Home Alabama.” 

 

Clem’s face lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw the sign and realized this was their destination. He pointed at the door. “Is that - ?” 

 

“Yeah, mate. It’s where I work, and I remember how much you love karaoke.” Spike pushed open the door. The smoke wasn’t too bad – yet. “Grab a table, and I’ll send over a song list and a beer.”

 

Clem was already scanning the room. “Thank you! Erm, is kitty allowed?” 

 

Spike waved a hand at him. “You don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it. No one will bother you. Most people in the city take their dogs everywhere.” There were several bars that catered to dogs around town, and he and Buffy had once taken out a few shapeshifters who’d been making the rounds at the dog bars and posing as canines to capture their dinner. 

 

Clem reached a protective hand up to the kitten and searched the room worriedly.

 

Spike clapped a hand on his free shoulder as he went past his friend toward the bar. “No dogs here. Go. Relax.”

 

Clem exchanged a smile with Spike and nodded before heading across the way. 

 

When Spike made it to the bar, Alex, his co-worker, had both her hands on her hips and a what-the-hell-are-you-doing expression on her lined face. She and Spike had been working together for a long time, and she knew at least some about the supernatural. She had her own tales that rivaled Spike’s. Buffy had been jealous of the bartender’s sexy voice until they’d met one another and become fast friends, probably because they both called Spike on his bullshit. “What are you doing?!”

 

“Now don’t go all Mother Hen on me. I’m just droppin’ off my friend before heading home with Ash.” His was still asleep even with the music. Spike wished he had some of those noise-canceling headphones for infants. “Need a copy of the song list and an Abita. Bottle.”

 

A new song started, the sound much quieter than the end of the last song. Alex dropped her voice to match the change while sliding Spike a laminated list and then opening a beer. She smirked and nodded toward the corner stage. “Looks like you’re staying for at least one song.”

 

Spike glanced over his shoulder and saw Clem motioning him up on stage. Oh, bloody hell. 

 

“C’mon up, partner!” Clem half-shouted into the microphone. He addressed the guy in charge of the sound system. “Pause it a sec.”

 

The music carried on for a few more beats and then stopped. Spike tried to wave Clem off by pointing at the snoozing Asher and shaking his head. 

 

“Now, don’t be shy,” Clem urged, continuing to wave him forward. “Plenty of room up here with me.”

 

Several of the crowd turned Spike’s way. When a table of his regulars saw him, they beamed at him and nodded with expectation. Damn it all to hell. What if Buffy got home before he did and discovered him and the baby gone?

 

Clem was rattling off, “Truth be told, he’s a way better singer than me. And trust me, I know. We used to get drunk together and belt out some tunes at his crypt in Sunnydale before he went to Africa and got himself a soul!” 

 

Oh, god, stupid sod was acting like this karaoke number was a bloody concert, and he was bellowing out Spike’s whole history. He could only hope the patrons thought it was all metaphorical. He’d better get up there before Clem kept adding to the rambling. 

 

Spike held up his hand. “All right! All right.”

 

“All right!” Clem was way too excited about this. “Let’s give him a hand, folks!”

 

Alex moved around the bar and raised her arms with both eyebrows lifted. “Hand over your little one. I’ll take him in the back. Keep him quiet.”

 

Spike smiled at her gratefully and began unstrapping the complicated carrier, careful to keep his son steady. Alex lifted the boy from the carrier and cradled him expertly against her body. Spike then handed her the backpack and now empty carrier. He watched a piece of his heart head to the back room, which was soundproofed and quiet. The owner kept a bed back there for overnight shifts or for breaks. Spike and Buffy had enjoyed the bed together on a couple of evenings when he’d been stuck during daylight hours and had another early shift the next day. It was somehow more comfortable than the cot in the Sunnydale basement.

 

Spike turned to the sea of faces, who were still watching. 

 

Plastering a winning grin on his face, he hurried to join Clem on the small stage where he dodged the kitten that was playfully batting at a set of wires. Great. He nudged the kitten away from the potential disaster with the toe of his Docs and accepted the microphone Clem offered.

 

The music started again, and Spike glanced up at the screen nearby to see that the song was a familiar one: “Once in a Lifetime” by the Talking Heads. Huh. Ironic.

 

“Go, Spike!” called Ben’s girlfriend; Spike forgot her name. She was new. He nodded toward the group whose members all raised their drinks to him. 

 

Clem whispered to him, “Thanks for joining me. I get way too nervous at these things by myself. You take the main lyrics, and I’ll join you in the chorus?”

 

Spike inhaled deeply and tried to clear his thoughts. Dru had made him watch the music video over and over when it came out in the 80’s. She’d been mesmerized by the lyrics and the movements that David Byrne made. She said the way he “delivered his message” spoke to her like the angels did, and she needed time to decipher the meaning. Spike only remembered because she’d been angry with him and kicked him out for a week and for no apparent reason other than he’d hurt her in some way that he couldn’t fathom. This was not his favorite song, and he didn’t remember putting it on the menu. “Right.” 

 

The kitten pounced on his foot right as the lyrics for the first verse appeared on the screen, and he half-spoke, half-sang the words, “And you may find yourself, Living in a shotgun shack, And you may find yourself, In another part of the world, And you may find yourself, Behind the wheel of a large automobile, And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, With a beautiful wife. . .” 

 

The irony of the words was not lost on him, and as they reached the chorus when Clem joined him, Spike relaxed into the rhythm of the beat and the flow of the music. Even the kitten trying to climb his leg didn’t faze him, and he realized that he knew exactly how he got here and now with Buffy and his son and their life. And he wouldn’t trade one step for the world. No wonder Dru had kicked him out, cheated on him, and done any number of things to push him away. She’d known all along that she’d lose him. 

 

As the song flew by, more and more of the audience members joining in with the chorus at each repetition, and Spike and Clem stepped off the stage to applause and catcalls. Clem rescued his kitten from the top of a speaker off to the side, and he and Spike wove their way back to the bar as someone else took the spotlight. 

 

“Thanks for doing that,” Clem said when they reached their destination. “I know you want to get home, but it was really nice of you to stay for me.”

 

Spike clapped a hand on Clem’s shoulder. “It’s not often we get the chance to catch up. I’d do it again.”

 

Clem pulled him into a hug. “I appreciate it.”

 

“Stay. Beer’s on me.” 

 

Settling on a stool, Clem spread both arms and leaned back on the bar. “Don’t mind if I do. I’ll crash out at my hotel later. Have a great night and congrats on the little one. He’s absolutely adorable.” His eyes flicked away. “And are you sure you’re okay about Harmony?”

 

Spike snorted. “Of course. I’d tell you if I wasn’t. Like I said, we’re long over and done.”

 

Clem made eye contact again. “She talks too much,” he reiterated. Then, he put his hand up to his mouth as if he were sharing a secret, “And if I’m being really honest, her skin’s way too tight for me.”

 

Spike laughed. “Next time you’re in town, you have to let me know. Buffy and I’d be glad to put you up.” Saying goodbye made Spike realize how much he missed Clem already. Maybe there was something to Buffy suggesting he hang out with his demon friends. 

 

Clem gave him a little salute. “Will do. And I want to hold the little lad next time.”

 

Spike rushed to check on Asher. He found Alex sitting on the bed in the back room, cuddling the sleeping baby against her body and swaying slowly back and forth. With his head on her shoulder, he was fast asleep. 

 

She kept her eyes on the baby. “I couldn’t resist. He’s just so sweet.”

 

“He is at that.” Spike pushed one hand in his jeans and heard a soft meow and purring on the ground by his feet. The white kitten was free of the diaper bag and was happily eating some canned tuna. Spike had no idea where Alex had found the food. “See you found this little Simba, too. Thanks for feeding him.”

 

“Nala,” Alex corrected. “He’s a she. And you’re welcome.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“You’re keeping her,” Alex stated and then looked up at him with a serious expression. “You’re not gambling her, and Asher needs a pet. Teaches empathy and caregiving skills.” 

 

“How did you know about – ”

 

Alex held up her hand. “Don’t ask. Just do what I say.” She was always full of surprises like the time she figured out he was a vampire and was almost blasé about the discovery.

 

“Will do.” Spike sat on the edge of the bed next to her. “We’d best be on our way. He needs to be in bed, and I need to figure out a cat box.”

 

“He does and you do.” Alex gently passed over the sleeping infant and then crossed the room to return the now protesting kitten to the diaper bag. “And maybe a better carrier for her?”

 

Spike chuckled, holding Asher carefully while Alex positioned the bag on his shoulder. Pets needed contraptions, too; at least they seemed to need fewer than a sprog. “Yeah.” He hoped Buffy didn’t mind a surprise addition to the family. It’d be the least of his worries if she knew what else happened tonight. 

 

Alex gave him a once-over. “Leave the carrier. You can pick it up tomorrow night.”

 

“Good idea. Thank you.”

 

A stern expression appeared on her face. “I want to see that lady of yours again soon. Tell Buffy to come by after work one night.”

 

“I will.” Spike swung open the door to the back of the bar. “And Alex – ”

 

Alex waved a dismissive hand at him. “Yeah, yeah. Your secret’s safe with me.”

 

“Thanks.” Spike stepped back into the cool evening, and he felt Asher shiver a little. Rounding the corner, he headed toward Frenchmen and then stopped, his nose catching a familiar scent. 

 

Oz was here! 

 

The wolf had just as good a nose as he did. Just bloody perfect. Couldn’t Spike catch a break tonight? 

 

Spike poked his head around the edge of the building and did a quick assessment of the situation. 

 

Spike saw Oz ambling toward them, and he wasn’t alone. Spike recognized Stephen, who was the drummer for the wolf’s band, and Willow’s witch friend who’d married them – Stacy? Spike vaguely remembered that Buffy had said Willow had company in town. 

 

Hoping the light breeze was sweeping his scent away from the direction of Oz’s olfactory receptors, Spike shrank back into the shadows. He held his breath unnecessarily and kept Asher close. The kitten squirmed in the squashed bag, and Spike let up, hoping the wolf didn’t hear the tiny squeak. 

 

As Spike watched the small group go by, Oz sniffed the air once and narrowed his eyes, stopping to stare into the darkness. 

 

Spike ducked behind the dumpster, and somehow, the baby and cat didn’t make a peep.

 

Oz spoke, “Spike?” Then, after a moment of silence, he said, “Huh.”

 

Then, Stacy distracted Oz by calling his name and clapping her hands in excitement. Spike waited until the wolf walked away and then cautiously stood to see Stephen grabbing Stacy’s hand and tugging her across the street while she laughed. Oz glanced back once and pressed his lips together before following his friends into the Blue Nile. Kermit Ruffins was playing tonight.

 

Spike waited for what he approximated was about five minutes and then turned the opposite direction down Frenchmen, moving as quickly as he dared without drawing attention. People had seen weirder things in New Orleans than a vampire carrying a baby and a backpack. 

 

When Spike was finally far enough away that he figured he’d avoided being caught by the wolf, he slowed down and considered that maybe he wasn’t so unlucky after all. He’d head back to the first bar, pick up his car, and race home. It was still early enough that hopefully, Buffy wasn’t home yet, especially with the way Liz had explained their strategy to draw out the vampires who were causing all the ruckus in the Quarter.

 

As Spike decided on this plan, he heard a soft footfall behind him, and he heard a soft whoosh of air. 

 

As he turned his head in alarm toward the source of the noise, something hard crashed down on his skull, and his arms went instinctively around Asher as he fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Green, there's a surprise for you here.
> 
> yellowb originally wanted Spike to karaoke another song, but I thought this one fit better with the theme of this fic, which is about Spike having his own process about being a new dad. Plus, Adventures in Babysitting (the original movie and not the remake) had that famous singing section mid-story, so this fic needed one, too! Only Spike's not singing the blues but he's realizing that he's happy with his life.
> 
> Song lyrics in this chapter from "Once in a Lifetime" by David Byrne.
> 
> The Spotted Cat and the Blue Nile are real bars in New Orleans on Frenchmen St., and Kermit Ruffins is amazing. Y'all need to see him perform! 
> 
> Kathleen, I swear you read my mind sometimes because this bit about Alex and the kitten was written before you wrote your review about why a pet would be good for Asher. lol


	6. The Kitten Shakedown

When Spike’s brain came back online, his first thought was of Asher. Spike’s heightened hearing came in handy, and relief flooded him when he detected his son’s signature heartbeat. Babies had faster heart rates than adult humans and most demon species, and he’d recognize his son’s anywhere. 

 

Spike was sitting up but couldn’t move, and keeping his eyes closed and head lolled to one side, he shifted his body parts just slightly. His wrists were bound behind him, and his legs were strapped to chair legs. The material keeping him in place was rope. He almost laughed. Rope didn’t hold him. No one in the demon community would ever try to hold a vampire with rope – nobody but the Scoobies in Sunnydale. He’d gone along with it, but then, he’d been desperate to remain in their company because he was newly chipped. 

 

Now, he was in the company of a couple of demons – the owners of the other three heartbeats. They’d apparently never tried to kidnap a vampire.

 

Spike opened his eyes a slit and saw that he was in a dark courtyard, probably somewhere in or near the Quarter because he could hear music and tourists in the far distance – no doubt partying on Bourbon. 

 

A stone fountain was situated in the middle of the lush mini-garden that opened up above the three-story building to reveal the moon, which provided enough light as his eyes adjusted. The scent of night-blooming jasmine perfumed the air, and the plants almost vibrated with life despite the darkness. The sound of trickling water muffled the voices nearby, but Spike thought he recognized one of the voices. 

 

It was Louis’s whiny twang. Bloody hell. 

 

“I know you’re there,” Spike announced, no longer wanting to pretend. He tugged at the ropes, loosening them but not letting them fall away. “And I bloody well know who you are, so show yourselves!” 

 

Louis practically pranced with glee out of the deepest shadows, his folded lavender wings quivering. He was still picking at his face, and Spike could smell blood, but it seemed too strong for the little bit oozing on the demon’s face. “So, you’re awake.”

 

“I am. Where’s my son?” Spike strained to view the other figure who was moving with much less speed.

 

“Where are the kittens?” Louis sneered.

 

“What sodding kittens?” Spike knew exactly what the little twerp was talking about. He only had the one kitten though (god knew where the diaper backpack was), and demons demanded full payment. “And technically, since Clem cheated, I won that hand, so they’re my kittens. You owe me.”

 

Louis got in Spike’s face, raised both eyebrows, and pressed his lips together in an insipid manner. Louis better be glad Spike was waiting for the other party to reveal himself and Asher, or he’d be dead on the floor before he could say another word. As it was, the winged demon planted his hands on his hips and snorted. “Your friend cheated. You owe us all the kittens.”

 

Spike’s patience was fast becoming non-existent, and his anxiety about his son was ratcheting up. “What complete and utter tosh. I don’t owe you anything.”

 

Louis made a face at him. “What? What does that even mean?”

 

“You idiot!” came the other familiar voice. “He’s trying to rile you up. It just means he’s saying he doesn’t owe you a thing.” Arjun came into Spike’s view in the dim light. The demon’s lanky body was hunched over, and Spike realized that Arjun was the source of the blood. The darkened red liquid saturated his clothes from the wound in his belly. 

 

Spike barely registered that though because a wide-eyed Asher was clutched in the demon’s arm, a talon pressing into his calf. A growl escaped Spike’s lips before he could stop himself. 

 

Arjun coughed, and the sound was wet. He was weaker than he was letting on. “Kittens or we’ll take your son.”

 

Louis flitted back. “Is he even your son? I mean, how’d that happen? You knock a girl up and then get turned? Why do you even care? It makes no sense.”

 

Spike flexed his muscles, and the rope fell away from his hands as rage filled him. He’d take Arjun first and then Louis would either run away or do something stupid that’d get him killed before he set foot out of the courtyard. 

 

Just as he was about to lunge at the pair, a third voice bellowed, “What the hell are you two doing?” 

 

Fuck.

 

Mike came barreling through the gate, dragging a frightened Clem behind him. “You can’t tie up a vampire with rope! Do you put any thought into anything?” 

 

“I-I tied the knots tight. I’m an Eagle Scout!” Louis put his hands up defensively.

 

Mike’s exasperated growl said everything about how furious he was. He slung Clem forward so that he hurtled toward the fountain and landed with a solid thump like bone cracking against the tile. Mike stormed over to Spike and punched him in the nose so hard that his head flew back and he saw stars brighter than the ones above. Bloody hell. The spiny demon hit harder than Buffy. The world swayed and flickered. Spike trained all his senses on his son; he had to stay awake for his Nip. 

 

Mike grabbed Spike by the shoulder and shook him a little. Spike groaned as blood flowed out of his nose.

 

“That’s it. Stay awake. Where are the kittens?” 

 

Spike did what he did best in times of duress: he laughed – the sound as condescending as he could make it. He’d shown the same derision toward Angel a time or two over the last century. “All this fuss for two bloody kittens? You really are off your bird.”

 

Mike slapped him hard enough to leave a mark with the back of his hand. “Enough with the patronizing act. You know very well that it’s not about the kittens.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Spike saw Clem stirring by the fountain and hoped his friend would rouse enough to do something. Spike rolled his eyes at Mike, trying to keep the trio of unhappy poker players occupied. “This is not honor among demons. You know your pride is gonna get you in trouble someday. And not the fun kind of trouble. The dead kind.” Spike paused and added, hoping it wasn’t too over-the-top, “Not that it’d matter much. Imagine the spiny look doesn’t get you much in the other kind of fun department. Not many ladies like that much pain. Physical or eye-sore.”

 

Mike slammed Spike back into a curving mass of ivy vines, pressing a particularly long spine on the top of his wrist into the soft flesh at the base of Spike’s throat. “I’ll have you know that the ladies love me!”

 

Spike chuckled despite the precarious position he found himself in. Clem better hurry up. “Construction doesn’t pay that well.”

 

“Neither does bartending.” 

 

Spike glared. “Least I have my looks.”

 

There was the sound of a clearing throat, and Mike immediately drew back, allowing Spike’s chair to fall back on all four legs. The motion and distraction allowed him to loosen his leg restraints.

 

Clem smiled, his lips trembling with nerves as he held a meowing kitten up in each hand. “You were looking for these?”

 

Spike quickly surveyed the rest of his surroundings, noting that Arjun was leaning against the wall closer to the courtyard’s entrance, Asher in his arms. Great. If Spike was to protect Clem, Arjun could escape with his son before Spike could get to him. If he went for Asher first, Clem would be a casualty. Spike didn’t know that he could live with either outcome. 

 

With one of his wings outstretched in a lopsided fashion, Louis was scratching at his face again and dancing from one foot to the other. 

 

“Why are you standing there?” Mike screeched, clearly beyond rationality, which Spike decided could be good or very bad. 

 

Louis jumped. “S-sorry.” He scuttled forward and snatched the two kittens from Clem, who made helpless eye contact with Spike. 

 

Mike huffed and put a heavy hand on Spike’s shoulder. “What’d you do with the weapons?” 

 

Somehow, Louis looked more bewildered than Clem. “I-I-I – ”

 

Arjun let out another string of wet coughs. “Behind the f-fountain.”

 

“Someone needs to hand over my son and get himself to the doctor,” Spike noted while desperately trying to find a way to make his move. He’d worry about his own throbbing nose later. Usually, when he was injured, Buffy tended his wounds and gave him a sip from her own blood supply to heal him up straight away, but Spike doubted she’d be all that willing even if they made it out of here without dying. 

 

Arjun’s barking laugh ended with another round of hacking followed by, “You wish, vampire.”

 

“Waiting, Louis,” Mike bellowed. 

 

Not very effectively juggling the kittens, Louis stumbled to the back of the fountain. Spike heard him rummaging around and then dragging something very heavy. One of the kittens was digging its claws in his shoulder, and Louis was starting to cry when he made it into view again. Someone really needed to put the poor bloke out of his misery or send him home to lick his wounds.

 

“What do you need the w-weapons for?” Clem asked, his voice steady but his hand tapping his thigh. He was nervous as Louis but hiding it as well as he could. Spike felt an odd zing of pride for his friend. 

 

Spike joined him in solidarity, “Yeah, you have your kittens. We played five sodding rounds of poker. Not even a whole night. Why don’t we call it even and go our separate ways?”

 

Mike pointed a finger at Arjun. “You call that ‘even.’ He’s dying because of you.”

 

Arjun let out a cross between a squeak and a blub. “Still here.” His voice was softer than it had been, and Spike very much worried he was going to pass out and drop his progeny. 

 

“We’re going to even the score, but I won’t be using my spikes on a vampire.” Mike practically spat in Spike’s face.

 

Spike refused to flinch. “Hate to tell you, but swords and spikes don’t do a bloody thing to me.” Wood, on the other hand – 

 

“Louis! A blade of some sort!” 

 

“I-it’s too dark. I m-might cut myself.” Apparently, poor Louis was also deficient in the demon sight department. 

 

Mike mashed his palm on Spike’s chest. “Just toss me something. If you get a cut, I’ll kiss it and make it better.”

 

“Really?” Poor sap sounded hopeful. 

 

“No, I won’t, you idiot! Hurry up!” As Louis dug into the bag, Mike sighed. “I just want to go home and get some sleep before work tomorrow.” 

 

With a scowl on his face, Louis drew a long wicked-sharp blade from the bag. As he drew his arm back to hurtle it, he grasped the kittens tightly with his other arm. The white kitten shrieked in pain and lashed out with both front paws at Louis’s face, digging deep narrow rivets into his flesh. The demon stumbled forward, and the weapon flew out of his hand at a haphazard angle with surprising force. 

 

Spike saw his moment and leaped free of the rope, shoving the larger demon into the new path of the weapon. 

 

Mike threw up his arms to protect himself. 

 

With a sickening thwump, the blade drove into Mike’s chest, sliding through his heart all the way to the hilt. Mike groaned and looked down at himself before collapsing to the ground. 

 

Louis cried out in anguish from where he’d fallen onto the bricks. Clem strode forward and kicked him swiftly in the head, effectively knocking him out. 

 

The kittens were nowhere to be seen, and Spike sent out a silent thank you to his cat while whirling to search for his son.

 

Arjun had slid to the ground, no doubt from loss of blood, and Asher clung to the demon. When he saw his father, he began to cry in earnest, soft hesitant sounds of fear. 

 

Spike ran to his boy and carefully wrested him from Arjun’s clutches. The demon glared at Spike though he seemed to have no energy to protest Asher’s removal from his possession. 

 

Spike ignored the demon but moved toward Clem and the weapons – just in case. Holding the baby close, Spike stroked Asher’s damp hair and lightly bounced him, whispering soothing sounds in his ear. His son’s cries almost immediately stopped, but he held tight to Spike’s shirt with one fist and hiccupped. “You’re all right. I’ve got you.” He addressed Clem, who had somehow retrieved both the kittens. “You okay, mate?”

 

“Frightened out of my mind, but okay. How’s Asher?” Shifting one of the kittens onto his shoulder, Clem cooed at the baby and gently patted his arm. 

 

Spike retrieved the diaper backpack from where it’d been tossed aside. “He’s fine now. Let’s get out of here before anyone rouses enough to do something else.” 

 

Clem picked up the weapons bag that had been too heavy for Louis. “We should take these.”

 

“Good idea.”

 

“What about these guys?” Clem gestured at the unconscious Louis and the dying Arjun. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been in a poker game that’s gone this horribly wrong.”

 

Spike emitted a soft laugh. “That’ll teach you to pick up players at the airport.”

 

The corner of Clem’s mouth went up. “You’re probably right.”

 

“Probably?”

 

Clem held up a finger. “No. Definitely.”

 

“I better get this guy home, clean him up, and put him to bed.” Asher’s diaper was full. He needed another change. Spike held out his hand, and Clem clasped it briefly. 

 

“Sounds good to me. A bed is calling my name, too.” 

 

Suddenly, Spike heard multiple sets of footsteps on the otherwise quiet street outside but detected no heartbeats. There were vampires – lots of them. 

 

The gate to the courtyard banged open.

 

Spike had to stop jinxing himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never thought the ropes would hold Spike...so I had to put that in here. lol


	7. The Stranded Boat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this chapter! This is one I've been planning since the beginning, and I swear I edited and tweaked it to death.

The sound of singing woke Spike up – well, not exactly singing but more like humming. The humming was familiar and lilting, automatically rousing feelings of nostalgia and passion that were long past. The melody slid up and down and around his senses, and he felt drawn to it like a moth to a flame. 

 

He tried to open his eyes – tried to clear his head, but his lids felt heavy like dreams were tugging on the blanket of his consciousness, trying to pull him back under. 

 

Something niggled in the corner of his mind – something important that he couldn’t grab onto. 

 

There was a shift, and he remembered that the flame was icy, the song discordant to what was in his heart and. . . his soul. 

 

And why was he having trouble forming a coherent thought? 

 

There was a needle! In his neck. He’d been drugged by a huge hulking vampire sired by. . . 

 

His eyes flew open, adrenaline forcing the lingering effects of the sedative through his veins and out of his brain. 

 

Clothed in black, Drusilla was swaying and dipping – dancing to her own song the way she always had. There used to be something hypnotic about her movements that resonated in his bones. It always gathered him in close to her and left him eager to touch her luminous skin as if he could join with her in the world of thoughts and feelings that made not a lick of sense but also did. 

 

And for a very long time, he did join her. She’d saved him from a mundane life and death and made his unlife fulfilled in ways he’d never dreamed possible. 

 

But in the end, it had left him cold and bereft and alone. 

 

He could only join her in the insanity for so long before he yearned for something warmer, something hot like the sun – someone like Buffy. Only Buffy.

 

His frontal lobe asserted itself, and he blinked, seeing that his son was cradled in his sire’s arms. Her focus was solely on him. 

 

The crooning melody trailed off as he watched, and she ran one blood red fingernail lightly over Asher’s cheek as she angled her face close to his smaller one. 

 

If he could have, Spike would have launched himself at his ex, but unlike some idiot demons he’d recently become acquainted with, Dru knew that vampires had to be chained to stay put. Heavy metal shackles held him in place against the wall. His restraints were attached to some sort of display. Where the bloody hell were they? It definitely wasn’t the courtyard. The humidity was nil, the soft hiss of air conditioning lingered in the background, and the echo of cleaning fluid stung his nostrils. His mind absorbed the photos on the wall. There was a collage of images of the flooding and destruction subsequent to Hurricane Katrina. 

 

Dru was holed up in the Hurricane Katrina exhibit in the Presbytere! There was no way she’d been here long. It was too obvious and too well traveled; she must have been forced out of whatever cover she’d borrowed for her stay. 

 

Minions were all around them, dressed in black and blending into the shadows as their master held court. The big one who’d drugged him was corralling the kittens, dangling a bit of string for them to play with. In the dark corner just barely in Spike’s sight, he heard two heartbeats. Humans. The scent told him that they were familiar humans: Liz and Katie. They still didn’t register as Slayers. The poodle was nowhere to be seen. He guessed they’d become bait after all. Neither was moving, and there was a strong tang of blood but no visible wounds. From the looks of it, they were unconscious. Clem was in the opposite corner, sitting up in his shackles, and telegraphing his terror without making a sound. Clem had never met Dru. It probably wouldn’t have gone well. 

 

“Now that your Daddy’s awake, it’s time for a story,” Dru singsong-ed, and because he’d only ever heard her call Angelus “Daddy,” it took Spike a second to realize that she was addressing Asher. 

 

She swooped across the room to a white wooden rocking chair that was stationed in the corner. Settling down, she cradled the baby in her arms and began slowly rocking. Her next words sounded flat and not much like her usual manner of telling a story. When Dru became cool, calm, and lucid on the outside, she was usually livid on the inside. “Once upon a time, there was a young man whose heart was broken. Hearing his cry of despair, a dark fairy princess appeared. She saw what no one else in the world saw. She saw his heart and spirit and,” she glanced up at Spike, and he swore that her eyes were filled with sadness, “imagination.”

 

“Dru,” Spike started, his voice low. He had experience dealing with a brassed off Dru. He usually started with tenderness, but he was too anxious. “You need to unchain me, pet.”

 

“Shhh!” The vampire brought her long finger to her mouth. “I’m telling the baby a story. It’s past his bedtime.”

 

Spike gritted his teeth but knew better than to say anything yet. With great reluctance, he waited. 

 

Dru pressed her lips together and then refocused on Asher, who was watching her with a mesmerized expression. “The dark fairy promised the young man that others would learn to value his strength and see the worth of his innermost worlds. But first, he had to accept her gift of blood and of immortality. She spoke to him, sang to his heart, and for the first time, he was seen.” Dru paused again. “The vampire was pretty. Fierce. Like a dangerous creature lit from within by the poetry of his humanity. His name was no longer William. His name was Spike.” 

 

When Spike opened his mouth, she whispered, “And for many many years, they traveled together. Loved together. Created delicious, decadent chaos together. The world was theirs. Until one day the dark princess was injured, and they journeyed to the city of the sun. Who knows why Spike thought he could heal his princess with sunlight? But he did.” That wasn’t exactly what happened, but Spike wasn’t going to correct her. “In doing so, he became entranced by the keeper of the sun. She killed our kind, breaking their hearts into tiny bits, but he loved her all the same. The dark princess left with great sorrow, traveling the world alone and confused. And then, one day, Spike sacrificed himself for the keeper of the sun and her world. Though his light was snuffed out, he came back. A genie loosed from the bottle. And he reunited with the keeper of the sun to create a new little ball of sunlight. You.” Dru punctuated the word by tapping a finger on his chest. “The pixies sang to the dark princess of his birth, but she had to see for herself. . . to make sure that he was real and warm. To taste. . .” 

 

Dru brought Asher up, rubbing her face against his so that he squirmed. A mix of a hum and purr erupted from the back of her throat, and Spike knew that this meant she was going to – The thought was unfathomable.

 

Spike strained against the chains, the metal rattling loudly, and in case that noise wasn’t distracting enough, he shouted, “Dru!”

 

Her head snapped up, and she growled at him.

 

“You can’t eat my son. He’s not yours for the taking.” His outward calm totally belied the fear and panic zipping through every fiber of his being. 

 

Dru pushed up from the rocking chair so sharply that the wood clattered sideways to the floor. In a second, she was thrust into his personal space and holding his eyes with her own blue ones. Asher made a soft noise but not of distress. “You do not tell me what I can and cannot do. Not anymore, Spike. I am not yours. You are not mine. We are not beholden to one another.”

 

Spike’s irritation tinged his words. “You chose that. You sabotaged us.” Even as the words left his mouth, they rang untrue. Dru had only ever been who she was. Though she’d stayed with Spike for decades, she followed her sexual whims. 

 

Dru threw her head back and laughed. “Silly William. Still fretting over Daddy. Even now.”

 

“I was talking about the fungus demon and the chaos demon and. . . Shall I go on?” Was he? Was he still worried about Angel coming in and swooping into is life to destroy it? He knew what Buffy said. She didn’t want anyone but Spike even if Angel was bloody human and living on a Florida beach somewhere with Blue. 

 

Dru clucked her tongue, backing away and clutching his son. “You know that’s not what matters. You care about connection and intimacy and love. Not slime demons and one-off affairs.”

 

Spike sighed. “Why are you really here?”

 

“Where else would I be? Your little sunbeam was calling to me.” Dru snuggled the baby closer and studied his curious expression. She looked up at Spike. “I wanted to see if he was real. If he was really yours.” Her gaze fell back on the baby, and she cocked her head. “He is, and he isn’t.”

 

“He’s my son, Dru.”

 

When she raised her head again, her eyes were full of tears. “He is.”

 

Spike saw her persistent vulnerability and nudged her along. “Are you alone and confused, pet?”

 

Tears traced their way down her cheeks. “Everyone has changed so much in such a short time. Used to be the everything around us changed but everyone remained the same. I don’t like it. It’s unsettling.” Her expression told him that she might close in on herself, her mind spinning off into unreachable places. 

 

Spike kept her grounded; he always did. “You know you could’ve got my attention without biting the humans and getting the Slayers all stirred up.”

 

“I was sending you a signal, but the world is full of Slayers. Little girls eating up airtime.” Dru turned toward Katie and Liz; Katie was still out, but Liz’s eyes were bright and alert. “And these were hidden behind a spell.” She clicked her tongue – the sound a bit lighter than before. She was amused. 

 

“You’re not fooled by magic, pet. I know.” His ex’s ability to sense alterations in the world around her went beyond anything he could ever do even being from the Master’s line. 

 

“Who is this, Spike?” Liz asked, her tone quiet, not commanding. Spike could tell she was feeling out the situation. Smart.

 

“She’s my sire. A bit batty through no fault of her own. You were bait?” Spike wanted to ask where the hell Buffy and Red were and how the hell Dru had managed to capture two Slayers, but he was afraid to give Dru any information that might get them hurt. He was just going to have to trust his instincts to get them all out of this mess, and he knew the very best way was to ease his way around Dru’s predictably irregular sensibilities. 

 

“Definitely bait. Looks like we should have been using you instead.” 

 

“Looks like.” He noticed that Dru was swaying and starting to hum again while gathering his son closer. “Dru, pet. Why now after a decade?”

 

Dru kept her eyes on Asher. “You know very well time is like a river. I wandered away from my boat and got lost. So lost. Will you help me, my Spike? I can’t tell the clouds from the roots. The sun from the comets.” She held the baby up. “Is he sunlight? He feels like a ray of sun, but he could belong to the moon if I bite him. Shall I bite him? Will you come with me if I do?” 

 

Spike kept his voice even and low. “No, no, Dru. I won’t come with you if you bite him. Deep down, you know that. If you bite him, I’ll end your journey for you. Won’t matter our bond. You understand that, sweets? I don’t want to hurt you, but I will. You bring harm to my family, I will end you.” Too late, he realized that maybe this was what she wanted. She wasn’t angry; she was depressed, which he knew was sometimes a different form of anger. Was she so far gone that she was suicidal? She never had been before, but then again, even when it was just the two of them, she always had hope for their family to be brought back together again. She valued connection as much as he did. Maybe she was completely adrift – all hope gone. He found himself softening. “Listen here. I know you’re hurting, pet. I know you think all is lost.”

 

Dru’s eyes were again glistening with tears. Something else clicked in Spike’s mind. She expressed pain physically – felt her emotions in her whole body, but she rarely cried. “All is lost, my Spike. Everything is in pieces. Human to demon to human to dust. Angelus has a beating heart. Mummy is detritus in the breeze, and my Spike is minding a human nipper.”

 

Spike’s temper flared; he was sick of being regulated to a stereotype. “Parenting is not the same as bloody babysitting. I’m his father, not a childminder!”

 

She glared at Spike. “But you are. Minding him.” She studied the baby’s face. “Where’s your mummy? A child needs his mummy. Sunshine to warm his tummy.”

 

“And sometimes a daughter needs her Daddy,” Spike said with easy firmness. “You need to let us go. Pay a visit to Angel.” Angel was going to kill him. Not that Spike cared. Dru needed something different than he could give anymore, and Angel seemed to gather lost souls these days. Illyria being one of them. 

 

She studied his face with uncertainty. 

 

“Look Dru. I don’t want to hurt you. You and I? We aren’t the same as we used to be, but it doesn’t mean I don’t still care about you. I can promise you this. When Buffy gets here, and she will, she won’t think twice about dusting you.” Spike wasn’t sure Buffy would slay Dru on a usual day, but if Buffy saw his ex holding Asher, Dru would be the resident of the dustbin without a second thought. Spike didn’t really blame Buffy for that. Truth be told, he didn’t want Dru for himself, but he didn’t want to have to kill her either. 

 

Dru closed her eyes for several seconds, and Spike knew she was listening to something he didn’t really know or understand – not anymore. 

 

When she returned to reality, he saw that her sadness had lifted a little. That was something. He smiled at her, and she put her fingers to her mouth and whistled. 

 

The large vampire immediately abandoned the kittens and was by her side. 

 

She regarded him sternly. “Unbind them.”

 

The vampire didn’t question Dru and began unlocking Spike’s chains. He felt the vampire’s power; Dru had sired herself a new playmate, but he seemed rather mundane. He was her lesser. 

 

Once Spike was loose, the large vamp moved on to Clem, but Spike had eyes only for his son. Dru eased Asher into his arms. His tiny body was heavy and warm; he’d fallen asleep again. He was probably exhausted. 

 

“Thank you,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion. 

 

Dru stroked the baby’s head with her open hand. “You’re welcome, my Spike.”

 

Without warning, the air was filled with the sound of shattering glass. This time, Spike felt the magic rolling toward them like giant ocean waves. It was more than just Red. There was some other thread there – a familiar signature. Was it the witch he’d seen with Oz?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you don't remember, this meeting with Dru was foreshadowed in the last chapter of A Small Boat on the Ocean. swifthorse really wanted Dru in Small Boat, but I couldn't fit her in properly, so here she is!
> 
> Hope my Dru voice felt right. I've only ever written her in one other fic...a one-shot about where the real Dru was when the First Evil came to town in season seven. I figured that she would be feeling a bit lost here with all her family lost to her.
> 
> yellowb, I definitely wanted this Dru chapter in here for you since you wrote her so beautifully in Once You Eliminate the Impossible.
> 
> OffYourBird, I totally just sent Dru off to collect rocks with human Angel by the ocean in Florida...where all human Angels in Spuffy fics go to die retire. 
> 
> I've been to the Katrina exhibit with my husband. It was neat to see it after going through it. And it's juxtaposed with a nice historical exhibit on Mardi Gras, which is really neat to see! 
> 
> Two more chapters to go...


	8. One Last Obstacle

A dog barked – the sound continuous and loud and closer with each utterance, but a group of ten or so vampires showed up first. They all had panicked looks on their faces, their clothes were rumpled and torn, and one had a dislocated shoulder that hung unnaturally alongside his body.

 

Dru turned to them, an unusual calm taking over her features. 

 

The tallest vampire, who had his thick dark hair in a bun on the top of his head, spoke first. “They’re coming. A-and the one with the red hair and her friend? They have some sort of fire spell that they do together that – ”

 

Dru clapped her hands, twice in quick succession to shut the minion up. “I know they are.” Spike wasn’t sure what she was responding to in the fearful spew of words. “Two witches, two Slayers, and two creatures of a canine variety. Where is everyone else? We had more at our party.”

 

“Dust. Or on their way to being.” 

 

Spike could hear the sounds of fighting and grunting in the background. The dog was silent, and Spike knew from experience that meant that the poodle was sniffing things out. Liz and a still unconscious Katie were free, released by Clem who had the kittens perched on his shoulders. Liz was hanging back, obviously waiting for Spike to give her some kind of signal whether she should take action. They’d worked together long enough as a group to understand one another, and Spike was never more grateful for that.

 

Holding Asher close, Spike said with urgency, “Dru, pet, now’s the time to go.” 

 

Dru didn’t even glance at him. “Not until I see her.”

 

“What do you mean?” Spike gritted his teeth. He wished that just this once she’d not follow a whim.

 

“Uh, Spike,” Clem said as he hefted the unconscious Slayer in his arms. Her blue-streaked hair was bright against the folds of his arm. “This Slayer’s pretty badly injured. It’s her head, I think.”

 

Spike took a moment to consider what to do. He had to get Asher out of here, and he knew Clem wouldn’t want to be caught up in the upcoming fray. Plus, now there was a Slayer in need of medical attention. And what about Dru? 

 

“Spike,” Dru interrupted, her voice vulnerable again. “Where is Daddy?” She held up an iPhone that she’d produced from god knew where. She was waiting for him to give her some sort of information.

 

“Oh, um.” As Spike grabbed the discarded baby backpack, he rattled off Angel’s cell number; Spike only had a few numbers memorized and Angel’s was one – just in case. 

 

Gershwin bounded into the room, hurrying first to Liz. She ruffled the dog’s curls as she sniffed her human all over. “Spike, I’m staying,” the Slayer said, breaking and then snapping off a piece of the discarded rocking chair. She hefted the improvised weapon and slid into a ready stance. Several of the minions turned toward her with snarls moving past their lips. The poodle growled with fierceness in return. “Get Katie and Asher out of here.”

 

True to man-bun vamp’s report, a fireball zinged past Dru’s head, narrowly missing her and catching another photo collage of flooded streets on fire. Spike caught a glimpse of Stacy – her expression diametrically opposite to her carefree openness when he’d seen her earlier with Oz. Her hand was raised to unleash more magic as a wolfed-out Oz hurtled after her. Emily, the New Orleans Slayer, literally fell into the room as a vampire shoved her viciously into a wall. He exploded into dust a moment later as Liz staked him.

 

Spike took one last look at Dru, who was moving into the fight, her energy renewed and ferocious. Not long ago, he would have been enamored by her moves, but that was then. Now, he cradled a somehow-still-sleeping son and hurried into the next wing of the exhibition where Clem had gone with Katie and the cats. 

 

Spike ran down a long hall lined with more photos and blank television screens, and when the narrower passage gave way to a final larger room where Clem was waiting, he was relieved to see a familiar red exit sign signaling a way out. He wouldn’t have to use the canoe in the corner to smash open a window. They could just saunter out onto the street. 

 

The only problem was, the door was probably connected to an alarm of some sort. Clem had all sorts of doom and gloom on his face. 

 

“Spike, what’re we going to do? I assume you don’t want emergency vehicles raining down on us with your friends and Buffy doing battle back there.”

 

Spike lifted an eyebrow and dropped the diaper backpack. “Simple. Put the kittens in the bag, and hold Asher for me.”

 

“Right.” Clem gently set the injured Slayer against the wall closest to the door and pushed the mewing kittens into the bag, leaving them a gap for oxygen. “Sorry, kitties.”

 

Spike eased the snoozing sprog into his friend’s arms. 

 

Clem smiled down at the baby. “Guess I get to hold him after all.” Moment past, the demon’s face took on a determined expression. “Now what?”

 

Spike approached the door. “There are several different kinds of security doors like this. We don’t have a key, so no luck there. Some operate using magnets. Those are harder. But this one is a simpler one. You just push the bar here to exit and the alarm goes off.”

 

“Simpler is good, right?” Clem wasn’t convinced.

 

“Yeah.” Spike squatted and pulled a credit card out of his boot where he sometimes stowed it. He didn’t prefer to carry a wallet. “Just need to slide it through to unlatch the door.”

 

Concentrating hard, he moved the card in the small crack, hoping to get lucky. To his surprise, it worked on the second pass. Pressing on the door with one hand, he let the humidity roll in and held open the door with the bottom of his boot while bending to snag the shaking backpack.

 

“Nice,” Clem said, handing Asher back to Spike. Reclaiming Katie, he rushed out of the museum. 

 

Almost immediately, they ran smack into a young couple on the otherwise deserted street. They were dressed for partying – the woman wearing a leather skirt and heels and the man wearing a plaid shirt. He obviously wasn’t from New Orleans; it was too warm for plaid despite it being winter.

 

The startled man pointed at Katie. “Hey, what’s wrong with her? And why do you have a baby out right now?”

 

The woman, her hair in twin braids down her back, hurriedly tugged her date away, ignoring Spike, Clem, Katie, and the baby. 

 

“I wouldn’t go that direction if I were you,” Clem half-heartedly called after them. 

 

With a huff of annoyance, Spike shouted, “Hey! Hey, you!” Asher stirred in his arms but remained a heavy weight. Spike felt his diaper. No need to change it anytime soon. He realized that Dru must have changed the baby and done a decent job at it. Huh.

 

The man glanced back with alarm all over his face.

 

Spike was half-tempted to don his game face and scare the crap out of the man, but he said, “You two need to listen to my friend here and go the other direction. There’re some men with. . . guns and other deadly weaponry that way!” More like a whole lot of vampires, some Slayers, a werewolf, some witches, and a poodle. 

 

Panic made way for resolution on the man’s face, and he ran a hand through his brown curls. “Mandy! We’re going back the other way.”

 

Mandy stared at her date with irritation all over her face. Seemed to be a theme. Crossing her arms, she cast Spike and Clem a what-the-hell look. “Fine. We’ll listen to the weirdos.” She pulled on his arm and stormed back the other way. 

 

Clem watched them go. “That was strange. They didn’t even seem to mind that we’re carrying an unconscious woman.”

 

“That’s the Big Easy for you or at least the French Quarter. Drug deals in broad daylight and men in business suits drunk and passed out on the street. People usually don’t question things. Come on,” Spike hissed. “Let’s get moving before anything else happens. We need to get the Slayer some medical attention.” 

 

Spike led them through the streets of the Quarter, aiming for the first bar and his Civic. Bourbon was much rowdier, and Spike dodged police officers on horseback and groups of reeling, drunken tourists. The stench of urine and spilled beer filled his nostrils. Voices were loud, and the music was louder. One couple was swaying and drunkenly singing “Dancing Queen” complete with attempts at synchronized kicks to the beat of the song. Spike stepped over a pile of horse feces. Having lived in New Orleans for several years, there was a reason he typically avoided the street unless he was out patrolling with Buffy. Fighting demons and vamps who stalked the tourists was fun; having to deal with the tourists themselves was not so fun. Clem stayed steadily behind him, and every time Spike glanced back, his friend was staring wide-eyed at the sights. 

 

A couple of blocks from their destination, the streets were thankfully deserted. Spike heard a soft moan followed by Clem calling, “Hey, Spike? She’s waking up.”

 

Spike turned back to see Katie’s eyes blinking as she raised her hand to her head and groaned. Clem shifted the young woman in his arms. 

 

Katie peered up at Clem in the dim streetlights and struggled up with greater strength. “What the hell! Who are you?” 

 

Somehow Clem still held onto her though he staggered back.

 

“Katie,” Spike said, “it’s okay. He’s a friend of mine.”

 

Katie’s eyes found Spike and widened. Then, she sagged back down, her eyes tightening in pain. “Oh. What are you doing out in the Quarter? And why is Asher with you?”

 

“I’m in town for the night,” Clem explained. “I hadn’t seen Spike since. . . since well our Sunnydale days, and I invited him out for a beer. Needless to say, it’s been quite the evening.” Spike noted that his friend left out the part about kitten poker, and for that, Spike was grateful.

 

“Oh.” Her hand went to her temple where the head wound was. She gave Spike a rueful smile. “Liz and I were bait. Vampires – we think the vampires who’ve been biting all those people – got us with some sort of drug after they brained me in the head with a bat. Talk about overkill. They must have turned a doctor and be knowledgeable about capturing Slayers.”

 

“They got us, too,” Clem offered.

 

As Katie’s frontal lobe started piecing together everything, she seemed to have a million questions. “Where is Liz? Where are Buffy, Emily, and Willow? Gershwin? And why did the vampires come after you?”

 

Clem shrugged a shoulder, letting Spike take the lead with that one. 

 

Spike decided to be honest. “My ex. She wanted to talk with me and meet Asher. She set this whole thing up to draw me out, only all the Slayers were in the way. Imagine Liz, Buffy, and the rest are rounding up her minions now.”

 

Katie gave him an incredulous look. “She couldn’t have texted or called? There is such a thing as a cell phone these days.” 

 

How to explain Dru? “My ex – she’s not exactly – ”

 

“She’s batshit crazy,” Clem interrupted. 

 

Katie laughed. “I have a feeling there’s a story there that I’m extremely curious about.” She briefly twisted her mouth to one side. “Though I did read about it in that dissertation that Emily sent me and Liz a copy of.”

 

“Dissertation?” Clem was confused.

 

“Some lady on the old Watcher’s Council wrote a dissertation about Spike and his life and unlife.”

 

Clem’s eyes rounded. “Ohhhh. You’re famous.”

 

The whole dissertation thing was still flattering. The corner of Spike’s mouth went up. “Yeah, yeah. But it’s pretty incomplete as dissertations go. Especially nowadays.” 

 

Clem’s mouth dropped open to ask more questions, but Katie squirmed in his arms again. 

 

“It’s okay,” she reassured him. “I need to stand up. I have to go back and help out. And you need to get Asher home, mister.” She pointed a directive finger at Spike.

 

Bobbing his head once, Clem gently righted the petite Slayer until she was on her own two feet. She stumbled a bit but caught herself on the folds of the demon’s arms. 

 

“We need to get you to George’s house,” Spike countered. The Watchers with their medical field training were there, and between the three of them, Spike knew Katie would get a thorough assessment. “You might even need a hospital visit.”

 

Katie closed her eyes; her eyebrows went together as she winced in pain. “Maybe you’re right.”

 

“’Course I’m right. Car’s not far from here.”

 

They made their way back to the bar with Spike and Asher leading the way and Katie leaning heavily on Clem but still in good spirits. 

 

The bar was now hopping, and several vehicles were jammed into the parking lot, situated in haphazard ways with a truck blocking three cars and little to no space between vehicles. Several windows were rolled down, indicating that demons had crawled out windows in their efforts to get out. Spike was relieved to see that no one had blocked him or Clem in. 

 

Civic in sight, Spike hurried toward his vehicle, eager to strap his little nugget into the car seat and get him home. Just as he reached for the door handle, he heard a familiar voice from the entrance to the bar. 

 

“Knew you’d come back.” Feng. Fuck.

 

Spike straightened his shoulders and tried to stay calm as the Asian demon approached. “Wondered what happened to you. You didn’t join your friends in the kitten shakedown.”

 

The demon’s olive-colored scales glinted in the parking lot’s lights, and the white tufts of fur on the tips of the pointed ears atop his head almost glowed. “They’re not friends.”

 

“Not even Arjun?” Clem asked, coming up behind Spike and Asher. 

 

“We’re colleagues in the same university department. That’s not even close to friendship.” The way Feng said it made Spike think about how he used to be just a hanger-on with Buffy and her friends.

 

Spike’s wariness went down one notch, but he still kept a close eye on the shadowed whisper of the demon’s deadly swinging tail. “What do you want? In case you can’t tell, I have a very tired boy on my hands and a very injured Slayer.”

 

“I’m fine,” Katie insisted, her voice sounding much stronger than even a few minutes before. Spike couldn’t tell if she was faking it, but the irritation in her tone made him consider that she was trying to sound strong in case a fight was needed.

 

Feng rounded the front end of the Honda, keeping his palms forward. “Just want a kitten. Know you have a couple of them on you.” His ear flicked back and forth; he probably heard a lot more than met the eye.

 

Katie moved to Spike’s elbow. She crossed her arms as she tried to seem taller than she was. . . or maybe as she tried to steady herself. Spike realized she wasn’t wearing her usual heeled boots, which probably made her more bait-like. “I know what demons do with kittens. And the answer is no. You can’t have a kitten. Just move along; none of us want a fight. We don’t have any kittens anyway.”

 

Feng’s smile was amused as he looked back and forth between the vampire and the Slayer. 

 

Spike shifted the diaper backpack and heard the kittens rustle around. “Actually. . .”

 

“What? They’re in your backpack – ” Katie’s eyes grew round as Spike could tell she was putting even more of the pieces together. “Ohhhh.” 

 

“And I don’t want a kitten to eat. I promised my daughter that I’d bring her one from the game tonight. To keep as a pet. Arjun and the other two took the rest with them.”

 

“Probably had a bit of a feast before they came after us.” Spike relaxed a fraction more. “How old is your sprog?” 

 

“She’s four. Really loves cats.” Feng produced his phone, jogged the screen, and revealed a photo of a much smaller version of him on his lock-screen. She had purple bows attached to the pale hair on her ears.

 

Clem sighed rather sadly. “Well, I can’t exactly bring a kitten on the plane tomorrow. I suppose you can have my kitten. Hold still, Spike.” He unzipped the backpack further and withdrew a squirming grey baby. With some reluctance, he held out the kitten to Feng. “Take good care of him.”

 

Feng accepted the bit of fluff, caressing his tiny head. “I will.”

 

“He will, or he’ll have the wrath of some Slayers to deal with,” Katie chimed in.

 

“He’s a history professor,” Spike informed her. “Loyola.”

 

“Perfect. There are four of us area Slayers, and we’ll be paying you and your family a visit.” Katie’s eyes were blazing with challenge. Spike tried not to smile at the idea of a SWAT team of Slayers playing social worker for a tiny kitten. 

 

“That’s fine.” Most of the demon crowd knew they were surrounded by a posse of Slayers; the decent ones, who just wanted to raise families, were grateful for the extra muscle around the city and state. “Good night.” Feng gave the group a little bow and left them to head toward his own vehicle.

 

“Well, Spike, I guess this is good night from my end, too.” Clem offered Spike his hand when he turned to face him.

 

“It’s been one wild ride, mate.” Spike shifted Asher slightly and clapped his hand against Clem’s. “Next time, you’re coming over to my place.”

 

Clem chuckled and gave him a little salute as he backed toward his rental car. “Right. Good idea. Don’t be a stranger. I want to hear from you before another decade goes by.” 

 

“Buffy will be sorry she missed you.” Buffy was going to kill Spike. 

 

“Give her my love.”

 

“Will do.” 

 

Katie plunged her hand into Spike’s backpack. The lack of Slayer signal was disconcerting as hell. She pulled out the remaining kitten, who automatically started purring like a motorboat. “He’s adorable.”

 

“She,” Spike corrected, opening the car door and gently settling his sleepy son into the car seat. 

 

Katie opened the passenger side door, cuddling the soft ball of whiteness to her chest. “She. What’re you going to name her?” 

 

“Don’t know yet but not Nala.” Spike buckled in his son and lifted the middle piece over his tiny chest. Safe as houses. 

 

“No?” Katie sat and buckled her seatbelt before closing her door. “That’s a good name for a kitty.”

 

“No.” Spike slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. “I’ll have to spend some time with her to suss out her name.”

 

“Makes sense.” Katie laid her head back and closed her eyes and then shifted to lean against the window. “Good thing you’re taking me to George’s. I won’t say a word to Buffy. Just FYI. Lips sealed.” She made a half-hearted gesture at her lips.

 

The kitten climbed over the middle console to curl up on Spike’s leg as he pulled out of the parking space and onto the road. His fingers found and stroked the kitten’s soft fur. With Asher asleep in the back and only a Slayer to drop off, Spike was finally home free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OYB, yellowb, and Green, you have cameos!
> 
> I amused myself way too much by having Dru whip out an iPhone.
> 
> Did anyone else wonder what happened to Feng after Spike and Clem got kidnapped by Louis, Mike, and Arjun? Well, here he is! lol And college faculty members can be good friends or bitter enemies...
> 
> Also the parking lot at the bar? Totally the LSUHSC parking lot before Katrina...it was cracked and pitted and way too many people parked there. There was more than one day that I had to open the door a crack, roll down the window (thank goodness I didn't have automatic windows), and climb in that way. Or squeeze myself in that little crack and climb over into the driver's seat. I didn't make Spike have to deal with that with a baby because he'd been through enough for one night. lol
> 
> And Spike is almost home free...and little Asher is out like a light! One more chapter after this one...


	9. Home Sweet Home

As Katie headed up the front walk to George’s house, Spike heard a familiar ping. It took his tired brain a second to recognize that he’d gotten a text! Making sure the kitten was well balanced on his thigh, he hauled the baby bag from the backseat and dug through the contents to find his cell phone. Miracles of miracles, the bloody thing still had an intact screen and a charge. 

 

Panic shot through his heart when he saw the message from Buffy. It was sent five minutes ago. “On my way home. Dropping off the troops off first. Exhausted. Boy howdy, do I have a story for you!” She’d put a little heart emoji at the end.

 

He didn’t reply and was grateful he had his “read” receipts off. Tossing aside the phone and starting the car, he pushed the gas pedal down as much as he dared with the baby in the back and raced toward home. Luckily, the hour was late and it was a weeknight, so the suburb streets were quiet. 

 

He slammed on the brakes once when a sodding teenaged boy, who was walking his slow-moving dog, started crossing the street right in front of him. “Bloody hell,” he whispered through clenched teeth as the dog stopped to smell his bumper. “A right stupid mutt.” He scratched behind the kitten’s ear. “Gershwin would never do that. You’ll have to meet her. Well, under better circumstances.”

 

As soon as the boy and his wayward pet were far enough along, Spike hit the gas again and sailed complication free to their home a mile or so away. He was pleased to see no Pilot in the garage as the door rose with excruciating slowness. Pulling the car gently inside, he slammed it into park and shut down the engine. 

 

Gently lifting the kitten, he placed her inside the house. “Be right back.” Then, he raced around to find that little Asher was fast asleep. He was going to sleep well tonight and maybe even let them sleep in in the morning. He contemplated how he was going to move his son from the car seat into the house and after only a brief second, he said, “Sod it,” unlatching the whole infant seat, looping an arm through the strap of the diaper backpack, and carrying the whole kit and kaboodle inside. The cool rush of the air conditioning happily greeted them. Nudging the curious kitten to keep her from sneaking back outside, he pushed the button to close the garage door and shut and locked the door while balancing everything. Being a father meant multi-tasking. 

 

The loud screech of the garage door shutting somehow didn’t wake the sleeping nipper, and Spike rushed through the house to the baby’s nursery. The kitten tagged along at his heels. 

 

Leaving only the hall light on, Spike carefully unlatched all the straps and wove his son’s limbs around them. He lifted an eyebrow at the kitten who was attentively watching the baby as he moved his lips like he was drinking a bottle. Asher often did that, no doubt dreaming about consuming something delicious. “Let’s hope he sleeps through this next part, eh?”

 

Of course, now was the time that Asher chose to wake up despite how slowly Spike was easing his hands under his nugget’s head and torso. He blinked bewildered eyes and began crying, his tiny lungs somehow creating a noise infinitely bigger than himself. Spike pulled the tiny boy close, bouncing and rubbing his back.

 

The kitten was now sitting up on alert, her tail wrapped around her legs. She tilted her head at Spike.

 

He shrugged his free shoulder. “Think he knows he’s home and is telling me all about it. Can’t blame him.”

 

A scent wafted up. Damn it. The sprog smelled like cigarette smoke and Bourbon Street, and his little hands were cold. Not good things. 

 

When Asher was done with the loudest wails but was still making whimpering noises, Spike drew him back. “Let’s get you a quick shower. It’ll be warm, and it’ll make both of us smell nice for your mum.” 

 

Without waiting for a response, Spike hurried into the spare bathroom, pulled closed the shower curtain and turned on the shower. He then divested the baby and himself of clothing, stuffing the reeking pieces into the hamper. He eased himself and the baby under the soothing water. He’d showered with the nipper before, and Asher always loved it, usually laughing and waving his arms in the stream of liquid. 

 

Tonight, Asher was sober as he held onto his father, but Spike could feel his son’s muscles relaxing, and soon, his body melted against Spike’s. 

 

Spike stooped and picked up the bar of soap and carefully but efficiently soaped up and rinsed their bodies. He was pleased that he got a small giggle when he tapped his son’s nose with the bar. 

 

With the fastest shower done, Spike dried them off, slung the towel over the shower curtain rod, and then diapered Asher, even rubbing on some of that Vanicream Buffy had reminded him about. As he dressed his drowsy son, Spike was suddenly eternally grateful for the onesies that snapped in the front. He couldn’t imagine pulling something over the baby’s head right now. Kissing his dozing son’s forehead, Spike laid Asher in the crib atop his clean sleep sack, zipping him inside. That done, Spike eased a clean giraffe Wubbanub in Asher’s mouth. Contented sucking began, and Asher was out. 

 

The kitten, who had been following them, rubbed herself against Spike’s legs and started purring. 

 

Spike scooped the kitten up and stalked naked through the house, grabbing a can of anchovies from the cabinet. Luckily, Dawn always kept a stash for when she was in town. She was in Denver for her first semester back to her master’s program since Asher was born. Spike missed having her around the house. “Sorry, Nibblet. Kitten needs a bite.” 

 

Setting the kitten on the cabinet, he pulled out two small bowls, filling one with water and the other with anchovies. The kitten purred louder at the sight and smell of food. Nudging the kitten away, Spike balanced both bowls in one hand as he frantically tried to think about where to stow her for the night. He’d had no time to get a litter box, and he wasn’t sure how the hell he’d explain the new pet to Buffy. He’d have to think of something and fast. If he were lucky, she wouldn’t notice the kitten until morning. 

 

Of course, his luck was abysmal tonight.

 

His line of sight landed on the hall bathroom close to the front door. “Perfect.”

 

He rushed to the room, arranging the food at the base of the sink. “There. Sleep well. More supplies coming. Until then, this is your home for the night.” 

 

The kitten ignored him in favor of the fish. Spike didn’t blame her. He rubbed her head once more and shut the door. 

 

Now, to bed with him. 

 

The garage door began its slow ascent. 

 

Bloody hell!

Spike ran for the bedroom in the back of the house, flipping off lights as he went. There was no time for clothes because he heard her key turning in the lock, so he slid between the sheets sans covering. It’d be a good distraction for him and Buffy. His body was already responding in anticipation, and he ran a hand over his length. He could use a nice way to blow off some steam and to reaffirm that they were still okay. He shoved away the insecurity that he suddenly felt for what seemed like no reason at all.

 

Spike heard Buffy pouring something in the kitchen sink. Then, her footsteps carried her to Asher’s room where he heard her make a soft noise of happiness. Finally, she came into their room, shucking off her boots first followed by pants and other bits of clothing. Spike feigned sleep until she entered the bathroom where she showered. The sound of the water falling lulled him into a doze before the scent of her freshly washed hair woke him up again in more than one way. 

 

Buffy pulled the sheets up and slid next to him, wrapping her arms around his torso and snuggling up. She, too, was naked, but she didn’t reach for him as she so often did. 

 

Instead, she whispered, “You left the formula on the cabinet.” Oops. It was the whole fresh pitcher minus the bottle he’d fed Asher what seemed like an eternity ago.

 

“Sorry, love,” he returned, relishing the touch of her skin, which was warmer from the shower. “I’ll make a new batch in the morning.”

 

“You better.” 

 

Spike turned onto his back and gathered her up against him, wanting to feel all of her near. 

 

As she nestled into their familiar position, she casually asked, “So, what’s the deal with the car seat in Asher’s room? And the diaper bag looks like it’s been through the ringer.”

 

Uh oh.

 

Though Spike’s body was as relaxed as he could make it, his brain was racing with thoughts. He saw no way out of this. Not a way that didn’t lead to later badness. He swallowed. “Well. . .” 

 

“You went out tonight.” Her tone was even and not accusatory.

 

So, Spike stuck to the truth. “Yeah.” And as soon as he said the singular syllable, he found that more words spilled out. “Clem texted me right after you left. Invited me out for a beer for old time’s sake. He said he was at an empty restaurant, so I took Asher with me.”

 

Buffy sat up and reached behind her to flick on the lamp, bathing their bedroom in golden yellow light. 

 

Spike sat up, too.

 

Buffy’s mouth fell open as she no doubt saw the wounds on Spike’s face. “Oh my god!” She touched his cheek and surveyed his swollen nose. As her initial concern melted away, she crossed her arms under her bare breasts and narrowed her eyes. “What the hell happened?!”

 

Spike took in the bruises on his wife’s face and torso. “Speak for yourself.” 

 

“The only reason I’m not freaking out more right now is that Asher is asleep in his crib.”

 

He resisted the urge to get defensive, forcing his arms to stay away from his body. “Without a hair disturbed.” Though not for lack of trying.

 

“Clem didn’t hit you. He wouldn’t.”

 

“He didn’t. He said to give you his best, by the way.”

 

Buffy’s expression softened. “Oh. I’ll have to get his number from you and text him later.” Then, she resumed the angry set to her mouth. “Spill.”

 

“Only if you do.” He nodded at the marks on her body. “Solved the neck-biting mystery. No doubt.”

 

Her green eyes flashed. “I did. But you know what? Still not going to get you out of going first. What happened after you took our son out for a beer at a quiet restaurant with Clem?” There was the expected sarcasm there. Spike supposed this was much better than her reaction could have been. 

 

“Promise you won’t interrupt until I’m done?” They’d made this sort of promise before, and Spike had a feeling he’d need her to continue the tradition.

 

She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

 

“Already a bit tense there, pet.”

 

“When it comes to you and my son, you’re just gonna have to deal with it.” She was firm but then relaxed and said more quietly, “Fine. Go already!”

 

So, Spike plunged into his tale, starting with the bar, Clem’s attempts to figure out why Spike had a baby, the pureed green beans, and the unexpected kitten poker game. Luckily, she believed him when he said he just wanted to find a way to get Asher out. He didn’t leave any details out about running into Liz and Gershwin, singing in the bar with Clem, almost being discovered by Oz, getting taken by the trio of angry poker players, and being drugged by Dru’s minions. Midway through Spike’s recounting of events, Buffy began to add in what happened with her and the other Slayers along the same timeline: how Liz and Katie came to be bait and how they’d met up with Oz and Stacy after Oz saw something suspicious with some demons on Frenchmen. 

 

Spike’s terror at almost losing Asher to the demons and Dru was so strong that tears filled his eyes more than once, and Buffy moved to his side and clasped his hand with hers. He could feel her tremble a little and put his arm around her. Soon, their arms and legs were wrapped around one another, and they were curled up together and facing one another under the covers. 

 

Spike had just finished telling Buffy about escaping from the Katrina exhibit, and Buffy was sharing the details of her fight with Dru and her minions. Most of the minions had been dusted, but Dru had escaped with her new play toy. 

 

Bending her arm under her head, Buffy said, “I should have known it was Drusilla as soon as we heard about all those people with neck wounds in the Quarter. She did the same thing last time she came looking for you.”

 

“She did. I screwed up last time around, too. Only last time, my invitation was revoked.” Spike threw the words out without the weight of his fears behind them. 

 

“Not this time.” Buffy smiled and kissed his chest. “You want to know the really weird thing about the whole thing?” 

 

“What’s that?” Relieved, Spike ran the back of two fingers over her hip and relished her resulting shiver and rising scent of desire. 

 

“She didn’t say anything when we were fighting. I don’t think I ever fought her before, but she’s strong. . . and kinda psychic. I swear, at times, she was anticipating my moves before I could make them.”

 

“She is at that. You never had the chance to really go hand-to-hand with her, but I bet that’d be a sight to see.” Spike felt himself growing harder in response to the thought of his wife and former love trading blows. 

 

Buffy grinned when she felt him, and she wrapped her warm hand around him, stroking upward until she reached his tip, which was already damp. 

 

Spike groaned but managed, “Not seeing how that’s weird though.”

 

Buffy pushed him onto his back and lowered herself onto him with aching slowness. “She had me pinned against one of those wooden doors. You know the ones with the ‘X’ code on them?”

 

“Uh huh,” Spike gripped her hips with a sly smile and bucked his hips up so that she moaned. 

 

Buffy followed his motions. “S-she gave us h-her. . .” She trailed off when Spike brought deft fingers up to tease her further. 

 

“She gave you what, love?” 

 

“Screw it,” Buffy hissed and rolled back, staying connected and dragging him atop her. “I want you hard and fast and now.”

 

Spike, of course, didn’t exactly take such orders, and he drew back, his fingers entering her slick wetness as he tenderly kissed her C-section scar, the soft curve of her belly, both her nipples and her neck. When she was squirming with longing, he lowered his weight onto her, pushing himself inside her.

 

He kissed her nose, his gentleness the inverse of what was to come. “Your wish is my command.”

 

Then, he proceeded to immerse himself in her heat, helping her use up all her post-mission fire and his post-adventure anxiety until they were both breathless and sated and happy. 

 

Buffy laid on her back, arms and legs outstretched, one hand atop his chest. She turned her head toward him on the pillow. “You’re mine.”

 

The fierceness of how she said it made Spike want to give her one more orgasm, but she stopped him when he reached over. “No?”

 

She smiled. “I’m exhausted. In a very good way. Again after I get some much-needed sleep?” 

 

“Please?” Spike loved that he’d worn her completely out. If he was honest with himself, he was done in, too. 

 

“Please?” she asked politely. She turned onto her side withdrawing from him but glanced back over her shoulder. “Hold me?” 

 

He cuddled up close behind her, briefly pressing his face into her hair. “You don’t ever have to ask, love.”

 

She yawned and proceeded to fill him in on some little details that he’d probably forget tomorrow because he was only half-listening. “Willow and Oz are coming by for dinner and a movie tomorrow night. And Stephen’s tagging along because Stacy’s here. I think he kinda has a thing for her.”

 

“The witch who married Red and her wolf?”

 

“Uh huh.” Her voice was softer.

 

“She throws a mean ball of fire.”

 

“Right? She and Willow tag team with the spell.”

 

“Remind me to not piss them off.” 

 

They were both quiet for what may have been several minutes. Then, he added, “That spell to disguise the Slayers?”

 

“Mmhmm?” 

 

“Disturbing. Don’t like it.” He was glad the witches had dismantled it before Buffy came home.

 

She gently elbowed him. “Too bad, Big Bad. We’re going to have to tweak it some and figure out how to use it, but it’s sticking around.”

 

He grunted even as one corner of his mouth lifted. “Great. I expect a warning everything time you lot decide to use it. And you’d better talk to Liz and Katie. They may protest being the bait.”

 

“Okay.” Buffy drew his hand up to her heart where he could feel her heart beating. He liked to fall asleep that way. 

 

Dreams tugged at his consciousness, but something niggling kept him on the precipice of sleep. “Love? What did Dru say to you during the fight?”

 

“Hmm? Oh.” She wriggled her hips against his and sighed in contentment. “She said something about how you belong to the sun now, and I have to take care of you for her. Not let you get burned up again. She doesn’t have to worry about that. I love you. Not going anywhere. And you’re never ever wearing anything remotely close to that creepy necklace.” Buffy paused for a moment and then added, “I think she was giving us her blessing. Is that weird?”

 

“No. Sounds like she was. Not that that matters.” No more than Angel’s indirect blessing by attending the baby shower. Spike squeezed Buffy’s hand. “I love you, too.”

 

Silence took possession of them again, but this time, Buffy broke it. “What are we going to name our new kitten? She needs a name.”

 

“I dunno. She’s a little ball of energy. A survivor.” 

 

“And she totally saved you guys. I’d say she fits right in the family. What about Xena?”

 

Spike scoffed. “Isn’t that a little cliché?”

 

“No!” Buffy huffed quietly. “She’s a warrior cat.”

 

“You’re a far better warrior than Xena ever thought about being. Not Xena.”

 

Buffy picked up his hand and kissed it. “Okay, mister, let’s hear your late night name musings.” She dropped his hand and reached back, forcefully pinching his thigh.

 

“Ow! You wanting to start this now? ‘Cause I can go again.” He rubbed himself against her half-teasingly, half-seriously. 

 

“Tired. Almost to fire bad, tree pretty but not quite there.” Spike knew that Buffy was just trying to convince herself that she wasn’t going to pass out and soon. “But name first.”

 

“Well. . . mine’s not much better,” he hedged.

 

“Out with it.” 

 

“I mean, it’s tied to the culture here.” Spike wasn’t sure who he was fooling with that line. “They have sno-balls instead of snow cones. And she’s white like ice.”

 

“Snowball?!”

 

“What’s wrong with Snowball? It’s a darn sight better than Nala or Xena! And New Orleans is our home. The place we chose together. The place we had Asher.”

 

“My sentimental husband.” She cradled his hand to her chest again. “How about Anne? After your mom? You know, since we won’t ever have a girl.” Spike heard the edge of sadness there.

 

He kissed her neck. “After you, too, love.”

 

“Snowball Anne Summers Pratt. Too pretentious for a tiny kitten?”

 

“It’s perfect.” Spike thought a big name fit the tiny creature.

 

“Did you notice that naming the kitten was much easier than naming our son?” Buffy’s voice was fading again now that her last agenda item was met.

 

“We’re getting better at agreeing to things.” 

 

“We are.” 

 

As they drifted off to sleep, Spike remembered that he’d forgotten to text his grandsire about his ex. Ah, well, the ole poof would figure it out soon enough. Happier than ever with his life, his wife, and his son, Spike let himself surrender to dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snowballs/sno-balls: https://www.neworleansonline.com/neworleans/cuisine/cuisines/snowballs.html
> 
> The x codes Buffy references: https://southernspaces.org/2009/x-codes-post-katrina-postscript
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this little tale in the Small Boat universe!
> 
> yellowb, I hope you enjoyed your kitten poker with the baby story! I can't believe we talked about you wanting to do this way back during the second exquisite corpse!
> 
> Thank you for all the love and support for this little fic about Spike being a dad!


End file.
